


By the Book

by SirLadySketch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mage Rights, Reversing the Rite of Tranquility, Rights of the Tranquil, Rite of Tranquility, Tranquility, don't mind me, mild romance, mulichap fic, this is more or less me scratching a headcannon itch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLadySketch/pseuds/SirLadySketch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hired on to assist the Inquisition in their research efforts, Archivist Bastien Banon is more than happy to throw in his hand gathering information. But when his studies have him working alongside of the Tranquil woman Helisma, it’s soon apparent that there’s more to the woman than first meets the eye. Never judge a novel by its cover and all that. Besides, he was never one to do things by the book. </p><p>Multichap fic that starts soon after the gang reaches Skyhold and runs concurrently with my assorted Solavellan fics, all the way up to Trespasser. Multiple suggested pairings, although the focus is on Archivist Banon x Helisma.</p><p>*ON HIATUS because I'm having trouble getting inspired/the words to flow correctly*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Skyhold

As far as first impressions went, Skyhold certainly made one. 

Bastien paused at the start of the great stone bridge for several minutes, both to take in the view and to catch his breath after hiking such a challenging and broken down path. The missive from Lady Leliana had not mentioned the fact that they were still rebuilding the mountain road leading up to the keep, and while he had donned appropriate travel gear for the journey, he hadn’t planned on carrying all of his supplies up the steep incline. He’d never been one for the outdoors, and the thin mountain air had him panting and resting along what might have been a brisk walk to some hardier adventurer.

He sat on his pack now, staring at the fortress that loomed at the other end of the bridge. Well, perhaps ‘loomed’ was not quite the right word. It might’ve loomed once, long ago, when it was intact and fully armed, manned with soldiers and ballista and fluttering war banners. As it was, the half-missing portions of the walls and damaged roofs gave it more of a sleepy, slouched appearance. There were soldiers, to be sure, but they were sparsely populated around the parapets. The true activity of the keep seemed to be within the inner courtyard, brusque movements and a steady stream of builders moving back and forth beyond the open gates.

Surely there’d been some mistake—it was questionable if the rubble heap before him was safe for meager habitation, let alone the storage of crumbling texts and scrolls. If the library held even half the tomes the spy mistress boasted, the volumes would not be there for long. 

Bastien reached within the folds of his tunic, and pulled out the letter that had brought him these hundreds of miles from his warm, dry, secure little Tower study. He scanned the elegantly penned lines for any indication that he had, in fact, come to the right place.

_  
Messere Bastien B. de Camforet,_

_By this time, you have no doubt heard of the events at the Conclave and the rise of the woman known as the Herald of Andraste. You need only look to the sky to see the threat that weighs upon the world, a threat that has given birth to a new Inquisition to stop the chaos that would destroy us all._

_As is often the case, to move forward we must look to the past to seek out possible courses of action. We are in need of skilled researchers of the arcane and ancient past, and your name comes highly recommended. Therefore, I extend an invitation to join our cause and help us protect all of Thedas from this new enemy._

_It is true that, as of yet, we are a nascent institution. However, our numbers continue to grow, and as such, so does our repository of knowledge. In joining the Inquisition, you would be given unrestricted access to our library, reporting and answering only to the Inquisitor and myself. We have already accumulated a wide selection of materials, and we plan to continue the library’s expansion._

_Your duties would include the requisition, analysis, and organization of new materials. Each assignment may vary in complexity, and some translations may require a faster turnaround. We will rely upon your expertise to delve further into additional areas of study that may help us achieve our goals. In return, we will offer you commensurate compensation with the chance of further stipends upon the increase of our resources._

_I will be happy to answer any questions or concerns you may have. It is our hope to start at once, so if you would join us, please send word and we shall prepare for your arrival at your earliest convenience._

_Kind regards,_  
_Lady Leliana_  
_Spy mistress of the Inquisition, former Left Hand of Divine Justinia_  


He looked up at the “nascent institution” and smiled. It might need a bit of work, but the foundations of the place seemed sound enough, and who wasn’t up for a bit of adventure? It would be much like one of those Kirkwall adventure novels, except that he’d be safe and sound behind sturdy walls without needing to leave the comforts of his study. He was no stranger to hard work, and blatant bribery and flattery aside, his curiosity had gotten the better of him in the end. 

He didn’t need the angry scar in the sky to tell him they were in for some rough times ahead, and if he could play even a small part in its resolution, well, who wouldn’t want to offer their services? He refolded the letter and stood, shrugging his pack back onto his back. Taking a deep breath, he headed down the crumbling path towards what promised to be the start of an exciting chapter in his life.

\- - - - 

Despite outward appearances, many parts of the building were still intact, and some of the more unstable portions of the walls were already in the process of being fixed. It was a work in progress, the repairs no doubt relying in part on the donations of the nobles and masses being rallied under the Inquisition’s flag. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the rotunda that housed the library had already been repaired, and the tall chamber had a warm, inviting bustle to it, similar to the Circle during a holiday. The squawking birds were a bit unusual, to be sure, but the place had potential. 

He walked towards the desk in the center of the room, peering at the open text. The Tevinter script seemed to be something about an excavation of ancient ruins of some Elvhen temple, some sort of account of the supplies the expedition had with them. 

“May I be of assistance?” 

Bastien jumped, scanning the room to find the source of the voice. The room seemed empty, and it wasn’t until the man cleared his throat that Bastien was able to locate the elven man sitting atop of the scaffolding. The artist descended the ladder and stood watching him with interest, no doubt curious about the newcomer within his studio. Bastien shifted the heavy weight of his pack, conscious that he’d been caught snooping.

“Lady Leliana sent for me,” he said, gesturing to the stories above them. “I’m Bastien Banon, senior researcher of the Bellspire Circle. She asked me to assist with their research efforts.” He shifted his attention back to the desk, gesturing to the open book. “Do you know who was reading this?”

The man tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Do the accounts of old explorers interest you?”

“Quite!” Bastien said, then stumbled on, aware that he sounded like a bit of an ass. “That is to say, leave a book open and I’m interested. Any and everything can make for interesting reading materials. Even lists of how many pairs of socks an expedition carries with them. You can learn a lot from what people consider worthy enough to write down!”

“I agree,” said the man, walking over to the desk and placing a bookmark in the text before closing it. He gave Bastien an apologetic smile as he placed the text on a pile of similar materials. “Unfortunately, such materials often hold little more than tidbits of the daily life of the author. While these can be interesting looks into the lives of those in the past, they rarely hold information useful to the Inquisition’s cause.”

“Ah, but this is not the only text the author penned,” argued Bastien, realizing he’d stumbled upon a fellow scholar and warming to the man immediately, despite the artist’s reserved manner. “If I recall, he wrote several folios on the interactions between the early Tevine settlers and the elven survivors. As you say, perhaps not relevant to this organization’s focus, but it certainly makes for a fascinating read.”

“You have seen such works?” asked the man, his voice a little sharper, no doubt equally as interested as Bastien had been when he first stumbled across the books. The librarian nodded, scratching his chin in thought.

“Third shelf of the second bookcase in the private study of Lady Cassira Pentaghast, eighty-ninth in line for the Nevarran throne. Ah, perhaps ninetieth, given that Sir Reginald Pentaghast recently became a father.” He shrugged, “The good lady had a great deal of interesting texts and works, although, as you say, few of them were of any true depth of information. Fascinating reads, but of little consequence.”

“Such a remarkable memory,” the painter said, crossing his arms and leaning against the table. “I am sure that you will be an invaluable asset to the Inquisitor and her cause. One never knows what significance even the smallest detail may hold.”

“I’ll be happy to help in any way that I can,” agreed Bastien, studying the man in turn. “Have you met the Inquisitor? They say she’s a Dalish scout, from one of the wild clans out of the Free Marches.”

The painter’s face settled into a cool, disinterested mask, but not before a hint of anger had escaped. Apparently the Inquisitor herself was a touchy subject for this odd elven man.

“Lady Lavellan is no more wild than you or I,” the man replied in a clipped tone. “It is to the detriment of her enemies that they underestimate her as such. You would do well to reserve your judgment until after you meet her, to draw your own conclusions and forgo any preconceived faults based on hearsay.”

“What Solas is trying to tell you is that our Inquisitor is quite a charming young lady, not the drooling baboon or the sacrilegious monster that the naysayers would have you believe,” interrupted another man, and they turned in time to see a lanky man dressed in gilded robes leaning against the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but one does hear such things being directly above you know, and I felt it my duty to rescue our newest recruit before you scared him off.” 

The man pushed away from the wall and strode forward, holding out a hand. “Dorian Pavus, resident social pariah of Tevinter and defender of newcomers from the tongue flaying of our resident rift-mage, Solas.” Dorian shook Bastien’s hand firmly, tightening his grip as he continued, “Although perhaps in this case, it was warranted. Solas does make a good point. If you expect to stay on, you’d best not say such things about our Inquisitor. Rather bad form, given that she’ll be funding your studies. That said, best not to dawdle. Follow me and I’ll take you to Leliana— she’s been expecting you.” 

Under the guise of a friendly touch on the shoulder, the mage gripped Bastien and steered him towards the stairwell. Under his breath, he said. “I also believe Solas is rather sweet on her, so I’d be extra cautious on that count, too. Best if you didn’t get any ideas.”

Bastien gulped and peered back at Solas, whose eyes narrowed and lips pursed into a frown. The mage watched them as they ascended the stairs, and Bastien drooped a little, realizing he’d just alienated someone who might have been a valuable font of information. He’d never heard of a ‘rift mage’, but then, he’d never paid much attention to magic to begin with, not outside of a historical context. It was a misstep that he would need to remedy as quickly as possible, once he found his footing in this place.

“I meant no offense,” he apologized as he was ushered upstairs. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about the lady Inquisitor—ah, negative religious extremist sentiments aside, of course. I simply meant that people are talking about the Inquisitor and her unconventional methods of getting the job done, and they’re crediting it to her history of living away from, ah, ‘civilized’ society. I think it’s good to see a leader approaching an issue from a new angle, not limiting herself to the conventions of propriety.”

“You don’t get out very often, do you?” asked Dorian, pointing towards the next flight of stairs and giving him a slight push to move him along. Bastien hesitated, however, a slight frown tugging on his lips as he paused at the top of the stairs. 

The path up to the spy mistress led them through what was undoubtedly the ‘library’, if one could call it that. Time had not been kind, however, and many of the shelves lay rotting in a heap at the bottom of the stone wells. Those that were strong enough to hold books had stacks of clearly unorganized papers, scrolls, and other ephemera that would have to be catalogued, numbered, and filed appropriately. Given the extent of the disorder, and based on the approximate size of the room (if one was to assume that the entire floor was, in fact, the library), it would be weeks before any actual research could be done.

His dismay must have shown. Dorian patted him on the shoulder, then gave him a gentle shove towards the stairs. “Not to worry! I’m sure that Leliana has a few people she could offer as helpers to help you get this place up and running in no time,” he promised. “It’s not as bad as it seems—we were able to rescue most of the books from the basement, and we’ve got some good strong timbers coming in any day now.” 

Bastien sighed. “I’ve seen worse, if you can believe it. It’s not the organization that bothers me though, it’s the delay in research. We’ll have to put things on hold until we know what we have and what we need.”

“You see?” cheered Dorian. “Already miles ahead of the last sod—he was just scrambling to keep up with orders, didn’t bother reading any of the things that came in. Now you know why we need you—you’ll just need to mind what you say about our Inquisitor. She hardly ever kills things with her teeth, and she assures me that’s she’s stopped performing ancient rituals in the nude.”

The man’s smile didn’t waver past its original friendly appearance, but Bastien was almost positive that he meant the last bit to be a joke. Hard to tell with people raised outside of the Circle, although after all he’d read about the Dalish, one never knew, did they? Still, reports indicated that Clan Lavellan was used to the common comforts and social niceties, and the woman did choose to hire on more researchers, which meant she had some sort of sense. Or rather, the spy mistress had given a compelling enough argument to convince the Inquisitor that they needed more learned members of the staff. So long as the woman in charge was capable of some level of literacy, he could work with that. She had enough foresight to know that research and information was just as vital as armor and supplies, so there was hope yet.

With this encouraging thought in mind, Bastien strode up the second flight of stairs with renewed vigor, despite his pack. Dorian took him by the arm and led him over to a desk tucked to the side of the room, where a young woman sat taking notes and referencing several missives on her desk.

The spy mistress was not quite what he expected, either. Granted, his interactions with spies outside of the circle were limited to passing bards he met on assignment at noble's country estates, but the lithe and collected figure seemed smaller, less intimidating than he’d been prepared for. She was shuffling through papers and taking notes in a small notebook. As Dorian led the researcher over, the woman spotted them and smiled, closing her book and standing with a smooth movement.

“Ah, Messere Banon, how good of you to come so quickly! We are so grateful that you agreed to help us with the challenge of getting the Inquisition’s requisitions in order. They have much need for a keen mind and steady hand to assemble them into order.” The woman’s voice held a velvety Orlesian lilt, and she spoke with the confidence of a noblewoman. He’d done his research, (of course), so he had some account of her history. To meet one of the close friends of the Hero of Ferelden, however… He flushed, biting his lip to stem back the flood of questions he wanted to ask, and concentrated on keeping up with propriety instead.

She watched him closely, a slight smile pulling at her lips as he gave her an awkward bow. Dorian clapped him on the shoulder once again, then turned heel and left the elf stammering in front of the spy master of a new and growing organization, possibly one of the most powerful and decorated people in the entire keep, even before she’d joined the Inquisition’s cause.

“My Lady Nightingale, I am at your service. I am rather excited to get started, we have much to discuss!” he babbled, fumbling with the pack that threatened to slide off his shoulders as he straightened. She tilted her head, examining him with interest.

“But you are a mage. I wonder, how is it that you escaped the conflicts outside of your Tower?” she asked. "I'm afraid that with things as they are, my people had some difficulty determining how it was you came to be in Orlais when you hail from Ferelden." She gestured for him to lay down the heavy sack, and he did so with a groan, rotating his shoulder to loosen stiff muscles.

“I’m not much of one, I’m afraid. A mage, that is. Just enough to earn entry into the Circle, and more importantly, access to their books and records.” He shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “I didn’t even realize the fighting broke out until I went looking for one of the clerks and found the entire dormitory empty. I think they forgot I was there, and it suited me just as well. I was able to go through the rest of the library and head to one of our outreach locations with our archives— an inordinate amount of materials— and finished a fair stack of copying before I received your letter.”

“The First Enchanter of your Circle spoke very highly of you,” she said, glancing at some of the notes on her desk. “My people visited her in Val Royeaux, and she said that you had a particular aptitude for memorizing lines verbatim, even complete sections of literature you read. Would you be so kind as to show me what she meant?” She gestured to the desk, placing a clean sheet of paper in the center of the table and handing him a pen. “I believe that your Circle had a copy of Brother Genitivi’s In Pursuit of Knowledge text, did you not? Why not write out a page about his interactions with the Dalish?” she suggested, although by the sharp tone in her voice, he could tell that she’d heard his inept attempt at conversation with the elven man below. That, or she really was an excellent spy mistress, and her people had already told her of his words, even as he made a fool of himself below.

“Is there a particular page you wish me to reproduce?” he asked, flexing his fingers and dipping the quill in the inkwell, hand poised above the paper. Her lip twitched.

“Perhaps the good brother’s disclaimer at the start of that particular section of the work,” she said, clasping her hands behind her to watch him as he worked. 

Ouch. He knew the section she was referring to—the page where Genitivi admitted that most of his research and conclusions were based on what he’d heard by those who had limited contact with the Dalish, and how he’d had very little actual conversation with anyone claiming Dalish heritage, aside from a singular meeting here or there. Apparently she'd heard his faux pas in the rotunda below. Still, Bastien could remember the words well enough, and dutifully wrote out the Chantry brother’s confession, adding the same flourish to the scholar’s name as it had appeared within the old tome. He looked around the desk for a sheet of blotting paper, but Leliana waved it aside.

“You have already passed the test, Messere, or I would not have invited you to our organization. I personally read through your recommendations and accomplishments, as well as checking your references and background history.” She gave him a full smile now, softening the delicate features of her face and letting him see what a pretty young woman she was. “However, you would do well to remember that we are none of us as well informed as we should like, and, as the good brother admits, the pursuit of knowledge—and understanding of that knowledge—is our utmost goal.”

He gulped, mindful of the warning, and gave her a quick nod of assent. She moved away from the desk, and waited for him to join him. “I will show you the main layout of what we have so far, and introduce you to the staff we have on hand. I’m afraid that not all of the people we’ve invited were as punctual as you, and I thought it might be best to wait until you arrived to select the remaining people together.”

She led him down the stairs, hands behind her back, completely at ease. The few people they did pass as they made a circuit of the room stopped in their tracks and immediately gave her a salute, not exactly looking at the woman but clearly unwilling to do anything that would draw her attention. Bastien made a mental note to ask that Dorian chap about it later, and trotted along behind Leliana as she made her rounds.

They chatted for some time about the immediate needs the library would have; new shelves, some sort of ledger to keep the books in order and to record where they needed to go, some sort of logical way of organizing the works they did have, and what sorts of materials and focus of studies they wished to pursue.

“As I mentioned in my letter, while you will be reporting directly to myself and the Inquisitor,” Leliana explained, pausing at one of the rickety tables, “we will rely upon you to maintain and build our library. An organization is only as powerful as its secrets and collection of knowledge.”

“I am eager to start!” he said, clasping his hands in front of him to refrain from picking through the pile of books before him. So much work, so much information—it was like one of his happiest dreams from the Fade, an unending supply of books, and the budget to purchase them. As he took in what were to be his charges for the foreseeable future, Leliana looked over his shoulder and waved over one of the people idling in the circular room.

“Solas should be able to give you more information about some of the more archaic volumes, and I believe Dorian may have some resources we can use to get our hands on some more exotic materials to study.” She held out a hand to introduce a tall, slender human woman with a demure countenance. “Helisma here is also recently promoted to her post. She will be helping the Inquisitor with her studies into the beasts our teams encounter while away from Skyhold.”

“My lady,” intoned Helisma, her voice formal, polite, but lacking any interest in the conversation. Bastien tore his gaze from the disorganized stacks to give the woman a quick glance, then flinched a few steps back as he gave the Fauna researcher a more thorough investigation.

The sun scar stood red against the woman’s dark skin, a terrible reminder to all mages who might overstep their boundaries. It was a shame; she was a pretty enough woman, and she must have been passionate and intelligent before they butchered her soul. In his experience, they killed mages considered too weak of character, or too useless to keep alive. It was not aversion, but pity, that twisted his lips. So much information, so much passion, lost. 

Unfortunately, the spy mistress did not interpret his reaction in this way.

“Although Helisma is Tranquil, she has proven herself again and again as a reliable, dedicated worker,” said Leliana, voice soft. The spy mistress hardened her tone a bit as she turned back to Bastien. “She has been an invaluable asset to the Inquisition’s works, and I believe that she will be of great assistance to you, should you need any research done investigating the creatures or enemies encountered during expeditions. This will not be an issue, will it?”

Her tone implied that should it be an issue, she would make sure that he had bigger problems to worry about. He shook his head, paling a little, and tried to force a smile as he gave the Tranquil woman a slight nod of the head.

“Ah, no, no, my lady, it won’t be an issue at all.” He flexed his fingers, settling on keeping them in front of him so that he could still the fidgeting. “I have worked with many fine Tranquil people in the past, I was just unaware that the Inquisition had any in their employ.”

“Haven drew many refugees, and Skyhold promises to bring even more to our gates,” said Leliana, narrowing her eyes. “I suspect that we will continue to welcome any and all lost souls who come to our door. The Inquisitor has made it plain that no one is to be turned away, and that no one should be abused because of their race—“ she gave his ears a pointed look, “their abilities—“ she gestured to the general magey-ness that was his traveling attire, pieced together from Circle clothing, “—or their past.”

“My focus is in the study of animals, but I am increasing my knowledge base so that I may be of more use to the Inquisition,” intoned Helisma, staring at him. He flushed, unsure as to what to make of that.

“Very commendable,” he said at last, wondering how much he would have to tell this creature to do, and if he could come up with some menial task to keep her occupied while he and the other researchers worked. “I am sure we will get along swimmingly.”

“See that you do,” was all Leliana said, and then she was gone, heading back up the stairs and leaving Bastien with Helisma. They stood a few moments, awkwardly looking at each other—well, Bastien was awkward, Helisma simply stood there cool and collected, but she would, wouldn’t she? At a loss of what to do, he smoothed down his robes and self consciously ran fingers through his hair.

“Lady Leliana thinks you have potential, but you will need to prove it. She expects nothing but the best from her people,” the Tranquil stated, and Bastien glanced up at the floor where the spy mistress was no doubt settling back into her own studies.

“She’s a bit… not what I was expecting,” he admitted, and Helisma stared at him, unblinking.

“It is to the great detriment of those who would underestimate someone based on initial impressions,” the woman intoned, voice unwavering. “There is a reason that she was the Divine’s Left Hand, and why she became leader of secrets for the Inquisition.” The tranquil stared at him for a heartbeat later, then said, “Welcome to Skyhold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Hey guys! I just wanted to leave a few thoughts and notes before we move on to what (I hope) will be a fun, fluffy, thought-provoking work.
> 
> Outside of telling a good story, I’m also focusing on developing characters. Any and every bit of feedback you can provide will be a big help in strengthening the piece and my writing skills. If you don’t feel comfortable leaving a comment here, I have anonymous asks enabled on both my SirLadySketch and SirLadyScripts accounts on Tumblr. I don’t bite, promise!
> 
> On a somewhat more serious note: I haven’t seen a lot of fics that delve into growing Tranquil as characters in their own right. They’re usually there as a plot device, brought up to evoke an emotional response before quickly being ‘fixed’ or worse, forgotten as the rest of the cast moves on with their stories. I'm drawing heavily on "Asunder"'s treatment of the Tranquil-- specifically Pharamond and how he deals with everything. I do plan to address reversing the Rite in a way that works within the canon verse, but I am going to do everything I can to make it a believable and logical progression in the plot. (I don't want it to seem like a quick fix)
> 
> The Tranquil are still people, and people are complex. We’ve seen that they can suffer under the hands of cruel keepers. While they have no emotions or freewill, they still think, breathe, remember, and respond in accordance to some innate sense of being. There will be romance down the line, but I want it to be abundantly clear that everything is consensual. I’m counting on you guys to let me know if that’s not apparent so I can fix it. Both Bastien and I thank you in advance for your help!


	2. A to Z organization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bastien settles in, and questions the Pursuit of Knowledge

He might’ve gotten off on the wrong start with some of the people of Skyhold. While he hadn’t quite antagonized one of his bosses by glibly speaking about the other, each time he went about his work, he felt like he was under the intense scrutiny of Leliana.

The woman might not be watching him directly, of course, but he was very much aware that she had people checking up on him. Whether it was a casual mention of something he’d written (privately) in one of his record books, or the briefest mention of a contact he meant to follow up with, the spy mistress already knew by the time he went to meet with her for reports and strategic planning. While it seemed a bit redundant, he figured it would be better to give her information that she already knew, rather than chance inadvertently omitting something and being scrutinized for the slip up later.

And while he got on well enough with the Tevinter mage, Dorian didn’t let him forget that he’d antagonized the elven mage, too. In hindsight, Bastien realized that it was perhaps not the most intelligent move he could have made, nor one of his most brilliant moments. This was not the Circle, and these were not Templars or fellow mages, prone to idle gossip as a way to pass the time.

Still, he settled in well enough. His room was small—there was space enough to fit in a bed and a small wardrobe, and a low shelf above the bed where he could store his current readings and a few odds and ends. However, he spent little time in his own quarters, choosing instead to more or less live out of a small sitting room tucked between two of the bookcases. It had probably been a closet or storage unit at one point, but once they fitted it with a small desk, it soon became his office and center of operations. 

His immediate concern was digging into the existing materials, cataloging and sorting the materials, then finding places to store them until they could rebuild shelves to hold them. It was a slow, tedious process, but it was work made faster by many hands. He therefore made a point to grab anyone idling on the second floor and put them to work—the sooner they could get the books away, the more quickly he could buy more. Having someone else move the books also meant that he had more time to reconcile the approximate guesses of what their current stock should be to what they actually had on hand.

He was in the middle of wondering why, exactly, they had 48 copies of _“Hard in Hightown.”_ He knew the author was in residence (although he had yet to meet the famous Master Tethras), and he knew that some people preferred to read fiction rather than history (although he failed to see the attraction). He could even appreciate the fact that so many people in the keep were interested in reading—always good to keep an active mind and all that!

What he didn’t understand, however, was why they were all missing. Well, all but three copies, two of which had been used to level out one of the research tables in the rotunda. Even worse, there was no record of who had borrowed the books, or when, or if the Inquisition had actually paid for that many books, and on whose authority. 

Because of this, he was in rather a bad mood when he found an elven maid loitering around one of the partially filled bookcases, running her fingers over the spines of books that were actually in some semblance of order. When she pulled a book off the shelf, he nearly went into apoplexy. 

“There will be no further lending of materials until all works are accounted for!” he snapped, shutting his accounts book and striding over to stop the woman from spiriting away the book. “All removals of materials from the library must be approved and signed for before they leave their shelves.”

Rather than be scared away, the woman seemed amused at his irritation.

“I wasn’t aware that there was a new policy in place,” she mused, thumbing through the book in her hands before deciding that she didn’t want it after all. Fortunately, she had the good sense to place it back in exactly the same spot she had found it. “What are we supposed to do if we’re looking for a bit of light reading?” she asked, tilting her head.

“The only light reading we have on record is currently missing,” he replied, cradling his accounting book to his chest and frowning down at her. “If you can find them, we have 48 copies of _‘Hard in Hightown’_ —I suggest you check the servants’ quarters for those. If you want something that we do not have on hand, you will need to put in a requisition request through either myself or Lady Leliana. But I’m afraid we’re rather backed up at the moment, and it may take some time to acquire anything.” 

“Why is that?” she asked, frowning. “Do you not have enough of a budget, or are you short staffed? Or were you waiting for the Inquisitor to sign off on new purchases?”

“Certainly not!” he scoffed, “The Inquisitor is far too busy to deal with such menial requests. Until we have the place for them, there is no reason to purchase additional reading materials. What orders we do place will be strictly for the Inquisitor and her associates.” He smiled, trying to soften the blow. “Apologies, but until we are fully established here, all new additions to the collection must be of scholarly materials.”

The woman returned his smile, waving an airy hand as if in dismissal. 

“Oh, no, that’s quite alright. I have several things I have to read in my room, I was just curious to see what was going on here,” she gave him a disarming smile, which normally would have worked, but that little factoid she’d let slip interested him far more.

“Would some of the materials in your room happen to be those missing copies of _‘Hard in Hightown’_?” he asked.

“I’ll bring them back and deposit them directly to you, I promise!” she laughed, crossing her arms. “I’d best get back to my duties, though. I’ll be by later this evening with the books, you have my word.”

“I’ll be here,” he said, relaxing a little. Any further restoration of the library’s materials was another step forward, another step closer to really getting a chance to read his new charges. He flushed a little, feeling guilty for snapping at the woman without due cause. “I cannot promise anything, but if there is a particular book in mind you would like to see added to the collections, I can add it to the requisition list.”

She tilted her head as if to think about it, then snapped her fingers. “Well then! See if you can scrounge up a copy of _’The Subtle Blade of Messere Amoureux’_ for me,” she grinned and gave him a wink before heading back towards the stairs.

“But! But!” he stammered, feeling the blood burning his cheeks. “But that title is banned by the Chantry in over twenty countries for obscenity!”

“Try to get an illustrated copy, won’t you? I’ve heard that it makes for fantastic reference materials,” she called as she disappeared down the stairs.

Bastien stood clutching his ledger to his chest, his mind frantically trying to figure out the logistics of it. It wasn’t impossible to find such books if you knew the right people, and if he approached Varric in the right way, the dwarf might be able to use his Carta connections. After all, it wasn’t banned in Kirkwall (granted, very little was banned in Kirkwall, dungheap that it was). And he did want to encourage literacy among the staff and pilgrims…. But how, exactly, would he run that particular request past the spy mistress?

He was puzzling over the possibility of keeping a limited access locked cabinet for mature and questionable materials in his office when a gentle hand touched him at the shoulder. He yelped and gave a startled jump forward, lurching away from the touch. Turning, he saw the Tranquil woman staring at him, unmoved.

“Yes? What is it?” he asked, clearing his throat and smoothing down his robes.

“I have assembled a list of the bestiaries and apothecary tomes as requested,” she intoned, handing him a sheet of paper with a neatly written list of titles. “I have also sorted them by region, given that the Inquisitor will only encounter specific plants and animals when venturing to different areas of the map. However, I included an annotated list of the various locations these creatures have been spotted, in case cross referencing must be done.”

He blew out a breath and tucked the paper into his ledger, trying to determine where those titles might go. Perhaps it would be best if they stayed in the areas where the researchers did their dissections and materials analysis. Glass cases might be best to protect the books from any spray, but it would be foolish to spend so much on a vanity item when a plain wooden cupboard would suffice for now. In a few months, once they’d established the main body of knowledge and determined what other titles they might need to purchase, then he could think on frivolous things.

It took him a moment to realize the woman was still standing there, watching him. He frowned, shifting uneasily under her unwavering gaze.

“Was there anything else?” he asked.

“The Iron Bull has a copy of the _'Subtle Blade’_ book in his private collection. He may be of assistance in acquiring a second copy,” the woman paused, blinked, then continued. “However, I believe that the request was made in jest, something to tease you about at a later time.”

“I know that,” he snapped, his cheeks reddening again as he realized that yes, it probably was a joke at his expense. Still, he was a librarian, and all knowledge—no matter how lewd and potentially corruptible—might be included in their collection. Ah, upon approval and the spy mistress and the lady Inquisitor, of course.

The woman tilted her head, gazing at him as if she saw through his bravado. He cleared his throat and stood taller, looking down at her.

“Where are the titles on this list?” he asked.

“They are currently in one of the temporary fixtures upstairs,” she replied. “I have sorted them as they are on the list, and will move them as soon as the cabinet has been completed.”

“Cabinet?” he asked, and she turned, heading back over to the area where she worked. 

He hadn’t ventured over to that section of the floor, concentrating on keeping the materials assembled before allowing the books to fill the remainder of the room. She gestured to the wall beside her table of research papers and materials. By all appearances, it was a typical bookshelf; tidy, cleanly labeled in her neat handwriting, and blissfully dust and feather-free. She pointed to holes drilled along the sides of the unit.

“When it became apparent that some of our work might involve processes that could potentially damage the books, I requested the manufacture of two doors to shield the materials within. Dagna is currently etching protective wards to further strengthen the glass before they are installed.” She brushed away invisible dust before lowering her hand.

“When will they be ready?” he asked, genuinely curious. The woman shrugged.

“Dagna is currently involved with teaching the Inquisitor the art of adding runes to weapons. It is my understanding that the Inquisitor has taken an interest in the craft, and is adding wards to each and every piece of equipment the Inquisition owns. It is unclear as to when Dagna will be free again to finish the work.”

He nodded, taking in her neat work space and sighing in relief. Here, at least, he could count on things remaining in order. It looked like the woman had things well in hand, no doubt used to menial tasks such as cleaning up and dusting. Still, given her clean penmanship, he might be able to have her copy some of the lesser missives if he became too busy to handle them himself.

“Did you say glass?” he asked, wondering if this woman had gone behind his back to order materials and supplies without consulting him. There were reasons that the tranquil were never given difficult responsibilities, after all. They always took the literal word of an order without contemplating the consequences. He would need to be very precise when dealing with her.

“The Inquisitor asked if there was anything I required to improve the workspace for our research,” she explained. “When I mentioned supplies for cleaning the area and a cloth to protect the books, she said that glass would be more practical in the long run.” She met his gaze, unmoved. “This was a few days after we reached Skyhold, before you arrived.”

Ah, so she had guessed what he was thinking. Ah well. So long as she didn’t overstep his authority, and as long as she didn’t pull strings with those above him to counter an order, it would be fine.

“Does the Inquisitor come by often?” he asked. He’d yet to meet his second boss, apparently because she was so caught up in enchantment that she wasn’t coming out of the forge. That suited him—more time to get the place in order before she arrived. The Tranquil woman paused a moment before answering.

“The Inquisitor is often in the rotunda,” she said at last, “although she usually remains on the first floor.” 

He frowned, then remembered something that Dorian had mentioned on his first day. The Solas fellow downstairs had an interest in the Inquisitor—perhaps the feeling was mutual? Given the way sounds carried in this room, he could only hope that they would be discreet so he could work on his studies in peace. 

“That will be all then, thank you,” he said, and she nodded, but remained standing by the table. “Unless there was something else you needed?”

“There is a folio of studies that assesses the harmonies of magical energy based on the cultural backgrounds and focused interests of mages. I believe that it is still packed among some of the recovered materials from Haven. You said that the boxes were not to be touched until they were categorized and sorted.”

He blew out a sigh, opening his accounts and shaking his head. “I can’t get to it for a few more days, we still have three cases of Antivan history to get through, and another stack of Tevinter scrolls after that.”

“Until the Inquisitor brings back more materials from an excursion, I will have time to go through the items myself. I can record the items that I remove in another list,” she said.

“Why the interest in that folio? What interest does a Tranquil have in studies of magic?”

“The forces assembled under the Elder One were mages from all corners of Thedas. Because the mages studied different fields of magic, and because they came from different backgrounds, they bent the Veil in different ways, drawing magic while feeding power into neighboring mages’ spells. Given that the Inquisitor has three mages of differing backgrounds and focus, I thought I would copy the work and give them to her associates.”

He frowned, unsure of what to make of that. “How did you notice such a thing when the entire place was burning to the ground?”

“I was not afraid,” she replied in a tone that chilled him. Of course she wouldn't be afraid, she didn’t have enough free will or emotion to feel fear. What else would she do but observe their attackers with the critical eye of one who had once yielded magic of her own? He shuddered, stepping away.

“That’s fine,” he said, eager to get away. “Be sure to make a copy for Lady Leliana as well while you’re at it, and leave the list on my desk when you’re done. Ask me before you touch anything else, however.”

He didn’t wait for her to reply, turning briskly and walking back to one of the short aisles to get back to the Antivan volumes he’d been working on. He could feel her stare on him as he walked away, and fervently hoped the Inquisitor would go out exploring sometime soon.


	3. Editing Social Mishaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When approaching slightly miffed mages, always venture forth bearing a gift.

Bastien did not consider himself a brave man by any manner of measure. He had told the spy mistress the truth (and who wouldn’t, if they were under that gaze?) when he said that his magic was middling at best. When news of the mages’ rebellion broke out, his only thoughts were to protect the circle’s printed treasures, and the only magic he performed during the entire skirmish was to strengthen the wards of the books’ protective cases. Offensive magic held no interest for him, except within the context of historic battles and legends of heroic deeds.

Despite his lack of experience in the field, however, he knew the soundest strategy when entering a potentially dangerous situation was to be prepared. That is why, when a request came in from the Rift Mage, Bastien went in armed with a peace offering.

Solas’ study was in much the same state as it always was—messy, but an organized sort of messy. Bastien longed to straighten the assorted books and papers into neat stacks, and to take that terrible stone sculpture and hide it somewhere dark, somewhere no one would ever have to look upon it again, preferably buried under several feet of rocky mountain soil and snow. At least the man was tidy in his painting—the brushes were clean and the bottles free of drippings. It would have been better if they were organized by color, of course, but one had to take what one could get.

“Yes?” a cool voice distracted him from his assessment of the room. Solas walked into the room from the courtyard exit, a slim folio of pages under one arm. He placed these on the desk (at an angle, Bastien was displeased to see), and leaned against the heavy wooden furniture, crossing his arms. Bastien coughed, straightening his spine and returning the cool gaze, although the book in his arm trembled a little.

“The books you requested arrived this morning. I’ve finished cataloguing them and we can either bring them down here for you to study at your leisure, or I can have them delivered to your room,” Bastien replied. “Once you have completed your research, please let me know and I’ll get them sorted away for you.”

Solas raised his eyebrows, his arms loosening. “So soon? I expected to wait a few weeks, not a few days.”

“Ah, well, I remembered the titles were listed in one of the libraries of a relatively local earl. He was very willing to help the Inquisition’s cause,” he paused, frowning a little. “Unfortunately, they are on loan—we will need to return them to his lordship once you are done. If you would like, we could make copies of the manuscript to keep here at Skyhold before returning them—I am sure the earl would not object, and would be more than happy to extend his generous loan for a little longer.”

Solas nodded, glancing over the materials he had on hand. “I will be up later myself to retrieve them. When I have a moment, I will look through them to see if we can limit ourselves to copying specific sections rather than the entire work.” He gave Bastien a slight smile. “I have no need for an account of socks.”

“Ah, socks!” Bastien cried, remembering the book tucked under his arm. He strode over to hand it to Solas, beaming. “That reminds me—I was able to procure a copy of Lady Cassira’s book, as I thought it sounded as though the content might aid you in your research. I’ve put in a request for copies of the other materials she has as well, although those works are still being transcribed.”

Now the man’s face did light up, and Solas flipped through the book, pausing to skim over sections before quickly paging further into the material.

“Fascinating! This will be of great assistance, yes. Thank you for acquiring this.” He smiled—a genuine smile, and Bastien relaxed a little, seeing the man’s cool exterior soften a little. “You said that you read this before? Do you recall your impressions upon completing your review of the material?”

Bastien scratched his chin, mentally flipping through the pages in his mind, trying to call up some recollection of the Tevinter’s accounts of the excavation.

“It’s a bit dry reading,” he admitted at last, “and rather light on the detail. He presumes the reader has a sound understanding of Tevinter politics at the time that he wrote the thing—a few rather nasty bits of commentary about his sponsors and their rival peers, if you might believe it—and there are a few sections where I believe he might have accidentally mixed in some dwarven materials. The site was located need a Deep Roads entrance, I believe, and contained a mixed cargo crate of artifacts. Possibly evidence that the ancient elves dealt with the Shaperate, or, and perhaps more likely, pre-cursor Carta agents stole items from another site and stored them at the entrance to the Deep Roads.”

Bastien shrugged, giving Solas an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid that there are many theories about that particular dig, and no general consensus. It’s the best overview of the research, however, so it may prove useful. If you’re looking for specific topics or source materials, I can certainly investigate further and let you know what I find. You wouldn’t imagine the eclectic collections and tastes of some of the nobility! Why, did you know that Lord and Lady Calibert have an entire collection of—“

“Oh good, I’m glad to see that the two of you are getting along. After Dorian’s account I was afraid that we’d be seeing blood on the floor.”

The familiar voice gave them both pause, and both Bastien and Solas turned to see the red-headed elven woman coming into the room, a wide smile on her face. She stopped in front of them and clasped her hands behind her back. “I thought I’d have to separate the two of you with a bucket of water. I’m glad to see that it didn’t come to that, although there may or may not be a bucket sitting by Varric’s desk.”

Bastien flushed, recognizing the woman with the questionably-legal requisition request from a few days earlier. While she had been true to her word and returned not one but fifteen copies of Hard in Hightown, he had yet to add her request to his list.

“You!” he said, just as Solas replied “Inquisitor.”

Bastien gaped, turning to stare at the mage. Solas’ face had gone from a curious delight in intellectual banter to soften into something far gentler, and much more private. Bastien looked back at the woman before them, and her grin widened as she watched him. Things were starting to fall into place and make some terrible sense, and his face whitened as he put two and two together.

“Inquisitor?” he asked, clapping a hand over his mouth. As quickly as he’d felt the blood leave his face, it returned in a rush, flushing to a deep, unforgiving red. For this woman to be the Inquisitor, and for him to have ignored her request! To have spoken so boldy with her, and chided her on her lax returns! To have actually given the Herald of Andraste a lecture about putting materials back in the correct place and chastising her for sorting through the uncatalogued items! It was unthinkable! It was worthy of immediate dismissal! It put him in rather an awkward position, and he bowed deeply, tongue stumbling over the words as he tried to undo some of the damaged.

“My apologies! I was not aware—that is to say we were not properly introduced, and I thought—the books and you brought them yourself, but I never meant to—Forgive me, your worship, but I have not yet acquired your request. I will do so, post haste. A thousand pardons for the misunderstanding. Believe me when I say that it will not happen again.”

She laughed; a hearty, not unkind sound, and while it made him feel like a fool, it also relieved some of his anxiety. If she was not offended by his mishap, perhaps he would not have to answer to Leliana about it—although he knew, with a heavy heart, that he would have to mention it in their next meeting.

“It’s quite alright, Bastien—do you mind if I call you Bastien? 'Banon de Camforet' is a bit of a mouthful, and I find that people will actually talk to you more frequently if you call them by their given name.”

"'De Camforet' is more of a title than a name," he admitted, shifting uncomfortably under her intent gaze. "One of the nobles I worked for-- through the Circle, of course-- thought that adding me to their household as a personal assistant would be beneficial for both parties. It has proved useful at times, but Banon is my surname. I would be honored if you would call me Bastien, your worship. I do apologize for my earlier behavior."

She waved aside his humble apology, shrugging sheepishly at Solas’ questioning look. “I might have failed to properly introduce myself when we first met,” she admitted, then turned back to Bastien. “I am sorry for teasing you, but I wanted to see how you were getting on. It seems as though you have everything well in hand. The library seems to be coming along swimmingly, and I’ve heard nothing but praise about your work so far. Very commendable, to be able to impress Leliana so quickly.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” he managed, trying to force a smile despite his still tremulous nerves. If Leliana was impressed with him, he didn’t even want to fathom what it would be like if she disliked him. Still, it was nice to hear that his efforts were paying off. “I would be happy to show you our progress. We’re nearly finished with the rebuilding of the shelves, and I’ve such plans for the next wing! I think you will be most pleased with the results.”

She smiled, clasping her hands behind her back. “I would love to see what you have in mind,” she said, “but I’m afraid I’ll be heading out first thing tomorrow morning, and I’ve got to prepare for the trip. Perhaps upon my return?” she asked, and he nodded, knowing a dismissal when he saw one.

Although he had listened quietly to the exchange, Solas had not taken his eyes off the woman. Bastien had read enough books to know when to make an exit, and gave the pair a slight bow. He was never one to be the third wheel, and he was never much one for romance novels.

“Of course,” he said, “Messere Solas, I will have the books prepared for transport, and you may pick them up at your leisure. I will also see about your request at once, your worship.” Solas nodded, and the Inquisitor’s cheeks pinked a little, and she bit her lip. Given that she had not corrected him and said that it was a joke, Bastien resigned himself to finding some way to acquire the smutty literature for his boss. However, this might be one of the few exceptions to his ‘copy everything so we have extras’ policy.

Solas studied the Inquisitor, noting her reaction with a curious expression. As Bastien headed towards the stairs, he heard “What book did you request?” Ah yes, it was an excellent point at which to make his timely exit, stage left.

He sped up the stairs, perhaps a bit more quickly than was proper or dignified, and tried to think about ways to fulfill the request in a cool, determined way. Still, he allowed himself a quick peek out of curiosity, and he saw that the Inquisitor’s face had darkened slightly. Solas seemed more curious than ever as the woman flushed prettily. Perhaps it would be best to make the delivery to the Inquisitor personally, and privately, with the book wrapped in paper.

“You know, it’s rather bad form, snooping on such a private moment,” drawled Dorian. Bastien glanced over at the mage who was leaning against the railing, watching the two below.

“I was not snooping,” retorted Bastien, crossing his arms. “What are you doing?”

“Snooping,” replied the mage, turning his attention back to the lovers below. “It’s rather quaint, isn’t it? They’re in that terrible phase of romance where everything is awkward and new, and no one wants to bungle it up. They’re head over heels for one another, but neither of them is willing to admit it.” He frowned, scratching his chin. “If I threw a book at them, do you think they would get the hint?”

“No!” cried Bastien, grabbing up the book closest to the mage. Dorian huffed in amusement.

“I wouldn’t hit the Inquisitor, I’d aim for Solas,” the mage argued in complete and utter calm. “Just something to encourage them to get a room.”

“No!” Bastien repeated, clutching the book to his chest and shielding it from Dorian. “If I hear of you throwing books, I’ll have the Inquisitor banish you to the stables! You’ll be denied access to all future materials without proper supervision. The items on our shelves are priceless, if I hear of you throwing them—”

“You do know that we can hear you,” the Inquisitor’s voice cut in, and Bastien peered over the railing, frantic.

“Inquisitor!” he pleaded, and she laughed, shaking a finger at Dorian.

“Dorian, there will be no book throwing,” she called up at them. “Do something useful for a change and get ready to leave tomorrow morning. We’re going camping in the woods!”

Dorian gave a dramatic sigh, pushing away from the railing and heading over to the nook he’d claimed as his own. “Oh, very well,” he said, although he paused to shout over “but get a room!” at them before disappearing from view. Bastien carefully replaced the book on the table, straightening the papers before heading back to his own duties. He had a special order to make, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of notes:
> 
> \- There will be a few times that I refer to other short stories I've written that happen concurrently to this story. I'll try to remember to include them in links at the bottom of the chapter so you guys can check those out if you're interested. In this particular case, the field trip the Inquisitor is going on with Dorian and Solas is the "Magic in the Moonlight" story, which you can read here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4825322/chapters/11050448
> 
> \- I'll also be sure to add any art that I make for this fic, too. It'll have to be later in December, but I'll let you know. :)
> 
> \- I'm working on this as half of my NaNoWriMo work, so please pardon some of the editing issues. You guys are getting it fresh/raw, no edits. Once NaNo is done, I'll probably sweep through an clean up the chapters I've completed. (And I'll get rid of this footnote when that's done)
> 
> \- Although I anticipate churning out a bunch of chapters for this during NaNo, I do need to primarily focus on finding a job (yay unemployment), so they might not be as quick in coming as I would like. 
> 
> \- Finally, a huge thank you to all of you reading, commenting, bookmarking, and subscribing to this! You have no idea how much it means to me, and I really appreciate your support. <3


	4. Making New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Inquisitor's away, the companions come out to play.

The next morning, Bastien came awake slowly, finding that he’d fallen asleep while reading in his little office nook. He blearily lifted his head from the book that had acted as his pillow, stretching long legs and arms to work out some of the kinks that had formed while he slept in the cramped position. He must’ve fallen asleep while following that lead on the name ‘Corypheus.’ Unfortunately, the anecdote he’d found in the Tevinter book was a false trail, and the tome he’d read long into the night was only good for being a pillow, and it made for a poor one at that.

Maker, he needed to stretch his legs. And possibly wash up. And he should probably change, since he was wearing yesterday’s attire. And had he eaten? He wiped a hand over his face, trying to remember if he’d actually gone down to the kitchens to grab anything—no, he vaguely remembered one of the servants had brought something up, a simple plate of nibbles. Hm. Probably should get some food as well then. After that, he’d have to check in with the others to see if they’d found anything in their evening research. 

They were stretched a little thin for his liking, given the tasks they were trying to accomplish. First, there was the immediate investigation into this would-be god Corypheus. Leliana hoped that knowing where he’d come from would give them insight into his plans, but so far, there’d been very little to find on the creature, or the man the creature had once been. Probably because their library lacked for decent Tevinter materials, although Dorian had sworn he had contacts who should be able to get them some supplies.

On top of that, there were two political situations looming on the horizon. The Wardens were missing, and Varric thought he had a friend who might have insight into the situation. As of yet, this mysterious friend had yet to arrive, so the Inquisitor could at least set that worry aside for now. However, there was also the issue with the plans to attack the Empress. Both Leliana and Josephine had sent word to Orlais, but they received no reply, and their contacts failed to check in. Things looked dark on that front, too, but there was little to research for either case, at least for now.

There was still the issue that the Inquisitor was getting requests from all over Orlais, the most recent request coming from the Emerald Graves. When out on assignment, the call for materials from the Inquisitor and her various companions slowed a bit, but those who stayed behind at Skyhold were not idle in their leisure. And frequent delivery of materials and samples from the Inquisition’s many exploration parties meant that Helisma and her team had a relatively steady stream of work. He’d have to check with her about their progress on that front, too—he’d heard that the Inquisitor thought she might make a few stops in the area, so it might be weeks before they saw her again.

Well, that was the day’s plan, but, first things first. He closed the book and stood up, albeit a bit wobbly, and stretched out the last of his aching muscles before picking up the heavy tome. Terrible pillow or not, it didn’t deserve to be left out like some two penny trash novel. He hefted the book in his arms and stepped out into the central area of the rotunda. He headed over towards their (sadly still lacking) section on Tevinter literature, making a mental note to tell Dorian that the book hadn’t panned out and that they might need to use those seedy connections after all. He turned into the mage’s little nook, and then stopped dead, holding the book up like a shield.

A massive Qunari warrior stood framed in the light of the window, looking through the bookcase. The tall man turned to peer down at the librarian frozen in his tracks, and Bastien gave a little yelp of fear.

“Maker preserve us!”

He started to stumble back, trying to edge his way out of the nook and up towards Leliana, since she was the closest battle-hardened (and scariest) person he could think of. However, he only got a few steps before he bumped into someone, forcing him to cling to the bookcase and try to shrink away as much as possible. Helisma passed him, ignoring the quavering the mage, and walked over to the Qunari without any hesitation. She handed a stack of papers to The Iron Bull—for that was who it must be, of course it was, but why on earth was the brute up here?

“Thank you for waiting. These are the reports you requested,” she said. “However, I do not know how helpful they will be to the Inquisitor, as most of the information we gathered came from the Inquisitor herself, or from Solas. The additional materials we requested have not yet arrived, although the Inquisitor will doubtless find more information when she explores the area.” 

She glanced at the librarian and turned back to the Qunari once again. “Messere Bastien has most likely never seen a Qunari. What information the Circles do have on the Qun involve massacres and the abuse of mages caught in the fray. I also do not know if anyone told him that you were here.”

“Excitable little guy, isn’t he?” Bull asked, peering down at the quaking Bastien. He shrugged at Bastien’s wide eyed stare, then flipped through the reports on the Emerald Graves’ history.

“I apologize for my rudeness,” Bastien managed, clutching the book to him and trying to smile. Even without the massive axe he usually carried, the Qunari looked like he could break tables over his knee. “I, ah, was not expecting to find anyone here, now that Messere Pavus is on assignment with the Inquisitor.”

“Nah, it’s ok, I get that reaction a lot down south,” the warrior grinned, clapping a massive hand on the elf’s shoulder. He flexed, showing off powerful biceps and making the leather of his pauldrons squeak under the strain. Bastien quickly reassessed his opinion—the Qunari man could probably snap the reinforced doors in two. “It’s all this awesome muscle mass, overwhelms them, I think. Lot’s of people scream like little nugs when they see me for the first time.”

“I did not!” protested Bastien, and Bull laughed, slapping him on the back. Bastien stumbled under the force, but Bull helped him remain upright. Chuckling, the Qunari eased his way around the two researchers and headed for the stairs.

“You should get out more, you know? Come down to the Tavern, meet the gang!” said Bull. “Bet you and Krem would get along ok, but you’d probably want to avoid Skinner til he’s had a few drinks in him. Visit us, and the first one’s on me!” And with that, Bull disappeared from view, supposedly heading back to the tavern. 

Bastien ducked into the nook and quickly shelved the book into its proper place, then struck out to freshen up in his room. Not exactly the morning he’d been expecting, but he certainly was not asleep now. So long as that was the only excitement for the day, however, he might be able to get some real work done.

Fate, as it were, had other plans. Once he’d sorted himself out with a good, brisk scrubbing and a new robe, he headed down to the kitchens for breakfast. Well, he stopped to speak with some of the other researchers first, to see if any of them had had better luck with their books. He also helped sort some of the missives that had come earlier that morning, courtesy of Leliana’s ravens, and he chatted with her a bit about possible locations they could investigate for further information. When he finished his conversation with the spy mistress, he took the long way around so he could drop off and collect a few items, and as such he encountered not one but two more of the Inquisitor’s companions.

Cassandra and Varric were arguing. This was the first he’d seen them together, and although he’d heard that the two enjoyed frequent, sometimes heated spats, he’d had rather pleasant conversations when he spoke to them individually. Cassandra was well-read and an avid reader. She was familiar with many of the classic pieces of literature and historic records common in all Circle libraries, no doubt the influence of her Uncle. Better yet, she put things back on the shelf and rarely asked for anything that was difficult to procure. Bastien liked her immensely, and would be happy to find any odd book she requested, should she ever take him up on his offer. 

Varric was a different sort of charming, the type who left a good impression, but there was always a bit of an edge to your conversation. You could talk to him for hours and the man had fascinating stories, but at the end of the day, nothing had really been said. Varric also made vague references to ‘associates’ who might be able to find some works that ‘may or may not be considered literature, and may or may not involve imprisonment upon discovery of said materials upon one’s person.’ 

Still, the writer was thrilled to hear that Bastien planned to have a section of the library dedicated to light reading, and Varric promised a hefty discount on any books purchased through his editor and publishing house. Varric also had connections to legitimate scribes and publishing houses as well, and he always knew just the right story to play the mood. As such, Bastien couldn’t help but like the man, questionable ethics aside.

On their own, they were two delightfully pleasant people who were always willing to discuss the Inquisition’s current projects, and gave insightful, helpful advice for improving the library’s processes. Together, however…

“I’m not blaming you personally, Seeker! I’m just saying— and you said it yourself—there were issues in the Chantry before Blondie went and started a revolution. What exactly were your people seeking, if they couldn’t tell that thing had gotten that bad? The Carta might not be an ideal solution to most problems, but there’s a reason they’ve been around for so long. They see an issue, they fix it.”

“The Seekers do not condone the needless execution of those who do not agree with our rulings,” replied Cassandra, eyes narrowed. She scowled, crossing her arms. “There are other, less violent ways to resolve things.” 

“I’m not saying you have to execute people, just… sometimes a bit of gentle persuasion gets you farther than a black and white reading of the situation.” Varric grinned, mimicking a persuasive stab to the gut. When Cassandra’s frown deepened, he laughed. “Look at us! Didn’t things get better between us once we sat down and talked like civilized people?”

“I had you in irons up until the incident at the Conclave,” she replied, voice curt. “I only released you because we needed the extra fire power.”

“You can’t fool me, Seeker. I know that underneath all that armor you’re just a romantic at heart. It’s alright, no one can withstand my dashing good looks and rakish charms.” He grinned up at the woman who made a disgusted noise, but he briefly winked at Bastien, who flushed, wishing that he didn’t have to go around them to get to the kitchens. “You can see it, can’t you?”

“I, ah…! That is, uhm…” Bastien stammered, wavering under the knight’s steely gaze and the writer’s impish grin. Clearly this was some sort of test from the Maker, making him earn this literary paradise on the mountain. Neither would make a good enemy, and to offend one to appease the other would be an incredible faux pas. 

It was at that moment that a door opened, and the heavenly scent of baking bread and roasting meats wafted through the door. His stomach gave an angry growl, breaking the tense silence and echoing through the short corridor between the rotunda and the main hall (or so it seemed). He flushed, embarrassed, and pressed a hand against it to try to silence the lingering gurgle.

“I was on my way to breakfast…” he trailed off, knowing how stupid that sounded. At least it distracted them form their earlier fight. Varric sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You do know that it’s mid-afternoon, right? Please tell me that you’ve had something to eat today.”

“Ah….”

“Come to think of it, I didn’t see you last night either. Did you have anything for dinner?” Varric asked, his voice a little sharper now.

“Well….” Bastien wondered if the wheel of cheese and apples brought up by one of the servants counted. Given the usual spread of the Inquisition’s table, he thought it probably didn’t. At least he’d been able to avoid getting drawn into a debate about interpersonal relationships—while he had no doubt that the two had some sort of friendship, there were some mysteries that no amount of research could explain. 

“I wanted to finish some work, and I suppose I lost track of time,” he explained, trying to shrug it off. 

“You need to get out of that room more often, you know that?” Varric asked, and Bastien sighed.

“So people keep telling me,” he said, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “This is the only place I’ve ever been where people have actively tried to get mages to go outside.”

“Have you ever spent any extended amount of time out of the Circle?” Varric asked, genuinely curious. Bastien flushed, forcing himself to stand a little taller.

“Of course I have!” he replied, trying desperately to think of a time after he’d joined the Circle that he’d gone out for any length of time. Then, it dawned on him. “I often went out to visit the estates of local nobles to provide them with copies of manuscripts, and to assist with the transport of rare materials.”

“I mean outside, in the sunshine! You're an elf! Didn’t you ever get the urge to go frolicking in the sunlight?” Varric pressed, although Cassandra put a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder, silencing him. 

“Enough, Varric. You’re keeping him from his meal.” She gave an apologetic smile to Bastien. “You’ll have to forgive him, Archivist. He is always looking for more materials to put in his books, and he won’t stop asking questions until he has your entire life story. Probably because he lacks the imagination to come up with believable characters.”

Varric pressed a hand to his heart, staggering a little.

“Ohh, that was a mean hit, Seeker. Maybe a little bit warranted, but you liked my ‘Tale of the Champion’ book well enough. I seem to recall hearing that you read all of my works multiple times.”

“That was research,” hissed Cassandra, although she flushed a little. “I was trying to uncover truths mixed into the lies you wove into that terrible drivel.”

“You see what I have to put up with?” Varric asked, although he didn’t wait for a response. He shooed Bastien off, waving a hand. “But enough about me. You come by the tavern later tonight, tell me more about your life story. I bet you have much more interesting stories than you let on. Maybe you can make a cameo in my latest book, ‘All This Shit is Weird.’”

Bastien, grateful for the exit now that he realized how hungry he really was, made a quick bow and darted off towards the kitchens, hoping he might find something quick to eat so he could get back to work. As he left, he heard Varric pick up the conversation with Cassandra again. 

“Speaking of weird, that reminds me—Dorian wanted me to ask you if we still have your two silvers on the Inquisitor and Chuckles, or if you wanted to update your guess? The pot’s up to ten gold pieces now, and you know what they say about elves and trees.”

Bastien could just make out Cassandra’s “UGH” before he slipped out of the hall.


	5. Afternoon Amblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bastien's dislike of the outside is surpassed only by his fear of Leliana.

Bastien was sorting through the day’s logs from his researchers, trying to compare notes and seeing if they’d come up with anything useful. A few middling reports of how early Tevinter politics evolved into the current political climate, but the information they’d found accounted for few details that were not readily available in everyday history books. At this point, he’d have to travel to Tevinter himself to try to get more information. He shivered at the thought as he gathered up the papers to tap them into an orderly pile; an elven mage in Tevinter was not likely to fare well.

“Are you unwell?” came a cool voice from over his shoulder, causing him to jump in his seat with a little yelp of surprise. The papers he’d been trying to straighten fluttered across the desk and onto the floor, and he quickly scrambled to gather them up again as Leliana watched, bemused.

“Apologies, my lady! I was, ah, lost in thought,” he said, collecting the papers and stacking them on the desk again. Leliana cocked her head slightly to the side, a small smile on her lips. He quailed under her gaze, stumbling on to fill up the awkward silence. “I am quite well, my lady, thank you. I’m afraid we haven’t much to report, though. Materials on Tevinter this far south do not contain much more than fiery propaganda or commonly known histories, I’m afraid. We may need to see if we can get someone inside, find materials that haven’t made their way across the borders before.” He flushed, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“That’s more your specialty than mine, I’m afraid. But perhaps if we hold back on hiring another scribe, the funds could go to an official acquisition agent?” His voice cracked a little as her smile widened, spreading to the point that it might be considered a grin, although her eyes remained fixed on him. He fidgeted, resisting the urge to shift from foot to foot. Maker, but she was terrifying. 

“I can see why he’s calling you ‘Puppy’,” said Leliana at last, her voice light and amused. Bastien frowned, trying to determine if she meant that she’d already found an acquisition agent who’d decided that Bastien’s code name would be ‘puppy’, or if he hadn’t heard her say something earlier, or if he’d inadvertently spoken over her, or if she was picking up on an earlier conversation that he hadn’t been a part of. Seeing his confusion, she laughed.

“Varric said that you have the enthusiasm of a puppy, and the same nose for trouble,” she explained, seeing him break out into a sweat when she laughed. “He also said that you are easily distracted when it comes to your work, to the point of skipping meals.”

“That was an accident. It won’t happen again,” he said, trying to make it sound less defensive. It came out a bit plaintive, though, and he sighed. “He escorted me to the kitchens and told the staff that if I didn’t show up at meal time, food was to be sent up to the library.”

“I know,” she said, still smiling. “And I hope you realize that we appreciate all of the hard work you’ve put into the place. Our library has flourished under your care. But even the Inquisitor makes time to relax. Have you taken any time to explore the fortress, I mean beyond the brief tour you received on your first day here? I’ve heard more than one person tell you to go outside.”

He reddened, trying to look away, back to the comfort of his books, but Leliana’s gaze kept him frozen. She nodded to herself, then crossed her arms, frowning a little at him. He gulped, feeling the cold sweat coming back.

“I thought as much,” she said, and she turned, waving a hand in the air. Bastien braced himself for archers hidden in the rafters, seeing as he’d failed to meet the spy mistress’ expectations. Instead, Helisma wandered over, watching the librarian with a steady gaze.

“Helisma will not have much work until the Inquisitor starts sending samples back,” Leliana said, smiling at him again. “I’ve asked her to make sure that you get outside a few times a week. I want you to take a look at the other sections of the fort, to see if there are any suggestions you have for improvements. The Inquisitor recently had a garden made up in the courtyard, and my agents recently retrieved a dracolisk. Have you ever seen one? Curious creatures. It should be in the stables now, you should go have a look at it.”

She uncrossed her arms and turned to go, patting Bastien’s shoulder as she left. “In the meantime, you make an excellent point; I will look into finding an appropriate agent to act as an acquisitions officer in the field. Perhaps we can cross-train some of our existing field agents as well, to broaden our search.”

And with that, the spy mistress was gone, and Bastien stood there, trembling and rather confused. He’d never actually taken a day off, not that he could remember. He found pleasure and pride in his work, always had. Why look beyond the library when you had everything you could possibly need between the pages of a book?

Helisma was staring at him, apparently waiting for him to move. Did Tranquil feel impatient? She certainly had the air of someone expecting him to do something. He’d half a mind to retire to his little nook and see if any of the Ferelden nobles had books they might be able to use. However, his desire to stay in the library was only slightly less than his fear of what Leliana might say or do if she returned and found that he’d disobeyed (and she always knew. _Always._ ). Resigned to his fate, he sighed.

“Alright then, just let me get these squared away,” he said. Helisma tilted her head and nodded, returning to her own desk to gather some supplies. No doubt she wanted to make some notes on this draco-thing.

“I will be ready in a moment. Please hurry so that we can complete a full circulation of the enclosure before the sun sets,” she said, then added after a beat, “Puppy.”

He refused to speak to her for the entire walk to the stables.

Instead, he focused on the sights of a fort slowly coming into its own. It still had a ways to go, of course, but the Inquisition had been hard at work while he’d been caught up in his bookish frenzy inside. The walls looked more stable, the grasses cut. There were more tents than he remembered, and more people wandering about. It reminded him more of a town than a fortress, and it was certainly more bustling than the inner sanctums of his Circle.

And it was rather nice to be outside. The mountain air was cool and crisp, almost mild when you thought about how many of the neighboring mountains still had snow on their peaks. And above the smells of a war camp at rest was the thin scent of winds that had traveled along mountainsides of heather and blooming scrub bushes. Then the wind changed, and all he could smell was the stables.

Master Dennet greeted Helisma like an old friend, and the woman returned the greeting as she walked over to one of the horses, holding out an apple slice she pulled from a pocket in her robes. The horse whickered as she approached, and as it delicately nipped at the treat, she patted its neck in a slow, soothing stroke. Bastien stayed at the edge of the stable, well out of reach of teeth of hoof.

“You’re rather good at that,” he noted, watching Helisma as she batted away the horse as it insisted on trying to chew on her shoulder. She gave the horse a pat, then moved to the next stall, where another horse vied for her attentions.

“I was very fond of animals,” she replied, giving the piebald a slice of apple. 

“Ah,” said Bastien, trying to think of some civil way to respond to that. Sorry you have no soul? Too bad you’re nothing more than an empty shell? He settled upon “Well, they seem to like you well enough.”

“I often come to the stables when work permits,” she said, not remarking on the quaver in his voice, if she even recognized it for what it was. “They quickly learn the patterns of their visitors. Some come to ride, some come to exercise them,” she said, then she slipped the next horse a bit of apple, “and some come just to give them treats.”

Bastien watched her, curiosity piqued. Not enough to get within biting range of the horses, of course, but he saw the way she naturally read what the horse would do, whether that was butting her hand for a treat, or trying to chew on her hair. She deftly responded with pats or gentle pushes, and made her way down the (ever increasing) line of mounts.

“Do you come as part of your creature research for the Inquisition?” he asked as she knelt to rub the battle nug behind the ears. The creature grunted in appreciation, snuffling in the mud and kicking its back leg in time with the scratch.

“One can always learn more about something by spending time with it,” she replied, standing and brushing off her skirts. She paused, clearly thinking about something before she spoke again. “Minaeve says that I often went to the stables of our circle. But I cannot remember why.”

“Well… if you liked animals, perhaps visiting them brightened your day. Being inside a tower all day can sometimes be tiresome,” he said, trying not to linger too long on the subject. For a Tranquil, she certainly was garrulous; none of the others he’d ever dealt with had spoken half as many words as she. But then, most of the Tranquil of his Circle could barely string two words together after the Templars were done with them. He shivered at the thought, and she tilted her head, seeing his reaction.

“Perhaps,” she agreed, then turned to lead him further down the corridor. “I believe the dracolisk is stabled away from the mounts it might consider food. Less stressful for the prey animals the Inquisitor keeps. I have not seen one in person before,” she said, and he took this as a warning. Unfamiliar animal meant that she had no idea how it would react. It had to be somewhat tamed if the Inquisitor planned to ride it though, didn’t it?

When they came upon the creature it was… certainly something. It watched them with an unblinking reptilian gaze, cocking its head like a bird as they approached and giving an odd, raspy squawking neigh. Bastien shivered at the sound, and even Helisma paused, taking in the animal’s appearance. Then, she pulled out a strip of jerky and offered it to the creature, who sniffed it, nibbled on it, and then greedily tried to snatch it out of her hand. She kept a firm grip on the meat, however, and ran a practiced hand over the creature’s head. When it balked, she proffered another strip of meat, and the animal’s focus returned to the food.

“I am going to spend some time with the beast,” she said, pulling yet another strip of meat from her pocket and offering it to the animal. She let herself into the pen, and patted the creature on the flank before turning to Bastien.

“I will be some time. You may wish to spend some time with Fluffy, as he is one of the Inquisitor’s favorite mounts.”

He paled upon hearing the name. “Do you mean the undead horse with the sword through its head?” he asked in horror. Helisma paid him no mind, as she had successfully wooed the dracolisk with a well placed scratch along its mane of scales.

Bastien backed away, deciding that no, Fluffy could wait his turn for Helisma’s visit, and he quickly headed into the barn, planning to leave by the front gate. However, the sound of scraping wood caught his attention, and he lit up when he saw the Inquisitor’s Warden companion, Blackwall.

“Good afternoon!” he called, heading over to the Warden’s workbench. He could see pieces of what would most likely turn into a griffon rocker, perhaps some sort of decoration for the Inquisitor’s collection. The grizzled man stopped his work, frowning a bit as he tried to figure out who his guest was.

“You’re that librarian bloke, aren’t you?” he asked at last, setting aside his tools and crossing his arms. “Can I help you with something?”

“Actually, yes, you might be able to!” Bastien smiled his most charming smile, but the Warden looked slightly confused and a little off put.

“I’m afraid I’m not much one for reading…” the Warden trailed off, then shrugged. “I’ll do what I can to help though. What was it you needed? Another bookcase for the rotunda? The Inquisitor said you were running out of shelf space.”

“I was actually hoping you might help me fill those spaces, actually,” Bastien pressed. “I know that the Wardens have records of their activities, and it may help us determine what might be going on. Do you have any contacts at Weisshaupt who might be able to—“

“No,” the Warden interrupted, holding up a hand to stem off any further questions. “The Inquisitor already asked me, and I already told her that my contacts are field agents, the same agents who’ve gone missing. I’m afraid I can’t be of more help.”

“But if you could just send a message—“ Bastien tried again, but the Warden shook his head, resolute.

“Won’t work. Wardens don’t have a secret book of histories. You learn how to kill darkspawn by killing darkspawn. Simple as that.”

“Oh,” sighed Bastien, deflated. The Warden would be of no help, or was unable to due to some oath from the order, no doubt. He’d hoped that the man would see that the Inquisition only meant to help the Wardens, but apparently even those with the best intentions could not be trusted. He could respect that; knowledge was power, after all. A pity that they’d be unable to use him as a resource, however.

“Sorry lad,” said Blackwall, and not unkindly. He patted the librarian on the shoulder. “If I could be of more help, I would offer it. Unfortunately, the only real offer I can help is fitting your library with more shelves.”

“I understand,” sighed Bastien, and spent a few more minutes trying to pass pleasantries with a man who held his cards close to his chest. It was an actual relief when Helisma walked through the door, apparently done with her rounds of the stables.

“If we are to finish our walk before sunset, we must hurry,” she said, ignoring the Warden. Blackwall took the opportunity to pick up his tools again, and the two researchers bid him a swift farewell before heading off on a tour of the rest of the keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll have some actual interactions with the Inquisitor again in the next chapter, promise guys. Also, this chapter officially pushed me over the half-way point of NaNo, woo! :D


	6. Meetings and Mindful Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor returns, huzzah!

Bastien learned of the Inquisitor’s impending return by way of raven. That is to say, a few weeks after she’d left, he’d once again fallen asleep while reading and awoke stiff and frustrated with the lack of progress in his investigations. After he extracted himself from his little office nook, he entered the rotunda to find one of Leliana’s ravens sitting on the main research table, preening its feathers and looking a bit bored. When it saw him, it hopped off the stack of books strutted towards him. It reached the end of the table, and then pawed at the air with a clawed foot.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, although that might have been due to the fact that he’d had another long night of research and only a very short nap on top of yet another tedious and unhelpful tome. Had his mental faculties been completely up and running, no doubt he would have gone into apoplexy at the sight of a dirty bird on a pile of research materials. As it was, he stood staring at the bird for several minutes, scrubbing his face with his palm to clear the sleep from his eyes.

His lack of reaction caused much consternation for the animal. It started to squawk and hop, on the edge of the table, kicking the air and cawing angrily. When this also failed to elicit the correct response from the elf, the raven purposefully walked over to the stack of neatly organized papers, grabbed a page at random from the middle of the pile and pulled, resulting in a cascade of alphabetically-sorted papers fluttering to the ground.

This did get a reaction, but perhaps not the one the bird had been looking for. Bastien wailed and dove towards the papers, trying to catch them as they fell to the ground. There was no physical way for him to feasibly catch all of them at once, of course, and the raven crowing over the mess hardly helped. He ignored the bird, crawling around the floor on hands and knees, trying to reassemble his carefully organized research. A few choice words and threats of baked pies might have slipped from the archivist’s tongue, but if the bird understood, it didn’t seem to care.

“Ser Baron Plucky has a message for you,” said Helisma from above, and he jumped at the sudden noise, banging his head on the table. Wincing, he sat back on his heels and rubbed at the back of his head as he squinted up at her.

“What? You mean the bird?” he hissed, feeling a lump beginning to form. Not for the first time he wished that he had healing magic under his belt. If he worked at it he might be able to manage a bit of ice on the tips of his fingers, although it would probably be easier to just go down to the courtyard and find a pile of snow.

Helisma stood watching him with a look that, had it been anyone else, might have been amusement. The raven looked fairly chuffed, sitting on Helisma’s arm and puffing up its feathers as she gently stroked its back. When Bastien lowered his hand from the back of his head, Helisma extended the raven’s leg, revealing a small canister strapped to its leg. She untied it, gave the bird a final caress, then threw it up into the air with the skill of a master austringer. The bird squawked as it joined its comrades, no doubt disgusted with the elf’s inability to read its mind.

“You are fortunate—usually he bites when he is upset. We have had complaints,” intoned the researcher. She pulled out a slim piece of paper from the little canister as Bastien went back to collecting the remaining sheets. She cleared her throat and read it aloud as the archivist reorganized his materials on the desk.

_Bastien—_

_Back by the end of week; have a few more books for collections abt. Emerald Graves and Emprise du Lion. Also, apparently going to need section about Dragon hunting; three dragons in EDL! Will need to ask Josie abt. contacting college for materials. Spk with Helisma to set up? Also might need you + team to scramble research, pls speak with Ntgle abt. next stop._

_-RL_

Helisma paused, considering the request. After a few moments she said, “There is room for a dragon hunting section by the stairs; I can place it next to the avian and assorted fauna files. Or, we could place it by the wyverns, although we may need to shift the collection a shelf or two. The region materials will need to be moved to the section by Dorian, although we may need to move it again in the future, as he may wish to continue filling it with more Tevinter works.”

“Hmm,” he replied, already trying to decide if there were books that could be returned to their proper owners to free up the necessary space. He was remiss to get rid of the physical copies, of course, but he’d read most of the books that had come through and could, if necessary, replicate sections of the works as needed. It would be easier to figure out which books they would need copies of, of course, if the Inquisitor and her party members actually took the time to tell him which works were useful, and which ones they could get rid of. Ah well. Perhaps he could wrangle an answer out of them when the Inquisitor arrived.

“I wonder what she meant by ‘next stop’,” he mused aloud, placing the papers back on the table. After a quick glance upstairs, he moved one of the heavy books on top of the pile so that no amount of tugging would loosen the pages again. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling the tender spot and wincing again. “The Inquisitor never really takes the time to relax between missions, does she?”

“I believe this is because she is obligated to entertain visiting nobles when she is at Skyhold,” replied Helisma, deftly pushing him out of the way. She quickly rearranged the stack of books so that they were alphabetical and the spines aligned. He made a hum of approval; they did look rather better that way.

Helisma eased back a few steps when she was done, watching him. “However, as we are lacking responses of some of our material requisitions, it is likely that the Inquisitor will spend a prolonged amount of time here. Or she may make frequent day trips while we wait for reports to arrive.”

“Possibly,” he agreed, rubbing his chin. He gave the room a contemplative look, wondering what they could do to prepare for the inevitable influx of materials and information that flowed in with the return of a war party. He turned back to the desk, lifting papers and trying to find his ledger. “Have you seen my folio? I’ll need to get approval for the assorted requisition lists to the Inquisitor’s companions before she comes back and requests more items. If we can get them ordered before she comes, by the time we’re done with her samples they should be ready.”

“The requested list of Fade materials is on Messere Solas’ desk,” Helisma replied, “Master Tethras and Madame de Fer have declined our offer to gather materials for them, as they have been collecting items through private channels. Messere Pavus promised to give us a list on his return, The Iron Bull does not desire reading materials, Lady Cassandra said that she is content to read the items we have on hand, and Messere Blackwall is still reading the previous book he requested.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “I am not sure if Sera knows how to read.”

Bastien groaned a little at the thought. “She does,” he muttered, thinking of all the obscene drawings and lewd remarks the woman had written on some of his notes and ledgers. If she’d had any talent he’d have asked her to help with the illuminated bestiary, but Maker knew that they didn’t need images of dragons mounting battle nugs in a book they were sending off to an ally or potential patron.

“Lady Cassandra mentioned that she might be by later this afternoon with the Pentaghast journals you requested,” Helisma continued, undisturbed by his grumbling. “The Inquisitor herself has not yet made any requests beyond the usual light reading materials.”

“Ah--!” he coughed, remembering the odd look Varric had given him when he’d asked for assistance in finding the Inquisitor’s one requested item so far. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to remain calm and willing the flush in his cheeks to cool. “Yes, well, the Inquisitor is busy. As are we,” he reminded her, putting his hands on his hips and trying to remember what he’d planned to tackle first that morning. His head did still hurt a bit, perhaps a quick trip outside for some snow would be best.

He started to head for the stairs, but a firm grip on his arm stopped him, and when he turned, Helisma was pointing upstairs.

“The Inquisitor requested that you speak with Lady Leliana,” she said. “If we know where the Inquisitor is going next, we can gather the required materials and have them ready for her return.”

“Yes, yes,” he snapped, tugging his arm free. “But I need to freshen up before I speak with the Spymistress, and I’ll need to make my rounds so that I have the reports. I’m sure that Leliana will be happy to tell you whatever you need to know so you can get on with your work.”

“You injured your head,” she stated, completely ignoring his subtle suggestion that she leave. He straightened and dusted off his robes, looking down at her.

“I’m fine,” he replied, “I just need to make myself presentable and I’ll speak with her then. For now, why don’t you clear out the sections of the bookshelf for the new books—put the dragons section next to the Wyverns, and move the section on Griffons over to the Grey Warden shelf. Maker knows there’s room to spare there.”

“Of course,” she said, and immediately went off to follow his orders. He turned back towards the stairs, but a short elven woman in Circle mage garb blocked his path. She scowled at him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He’d seen her a few times with the creature research team, but he couldn’t place her name. Mina? Mira? M-something or other.

“There was no need for that,” she said, the familiar Dalish lilt softening some of the words. “Tranquil doesn’t mean stupid, and she’s been here longer than you. By all rights she ought to outrank you.”

“I was hired by Lady Leliana to be the head archivist—”

“And I was head researcher at Haven,” she replied, cutting him off. She sighed, shaking her head as if she was talking to an impertinent child. “You've done a good job of it, there’s no denying that. But we’ve all dedicated ourselves to the cause, Helisma included. Don’t underestimate her value and let her talents go to waste—she can do more than shuffle books about.”

“I am aware of her abilities,” he said, straightening his back to gain a smidgen of height. “But as she is one of the few people who seems to understand the importance of keeping things alphabetical and organized, having her correctly set up the books in the first place saves me the need to go back and fix it later. When she is not busy with her research, I ask her to assist me with organization. It’s not exciting work, but she’s not complained, and it is immensely helpful.”

“She wouldn’t complain, would she?” challenged the woman, although she seemed a bit more relaxed after he’d explained. “You’ve still got her working on creature research, then?”

“The Archivist has been most helpful in completing my reports on the dracolisk,” Helisma intoned, returning to the desk to pick up some of the books from the desk. She turned to the other woman but gestured to Bastien. “Messere Bastien discovered that the dracolisks are very fond of vellum.”

“What?” asked the elven woman, taken aback. Bastien rubbed a hand over his face, wishing he could just sink through the floor and escape. Helisma took no notice of his discomfort.

“He has accompanied me these past two weeks on my routine examination of the stable creatures,” Helisma explained. “The Inquisitor’s newest mount ate a portion of his record book.”

“What?” asked the woman again, this time with a bit of a laugh in her voice. Helisma nodded.

“There were no ill effects to the dracolisk. However, our notes are now completely written on paper and written several paces out of the creature’s reach. We will continue our research and record what we find.”

“I see,” said the woman, this time her tone somewhat more guarded, her look sharp. “Well then… I suppose that’s alright. I’ll leave you to it, then.” And with that, the elven woman walked past Bastien and Helisma, but not without giving the researcher a gentle pat on the shoulder. Then the woman was gone, her quiet steps echoing up the stairs as she made her way aloft.

Helisma turned to him. “I will gather the reports from the other researchers and have that prepared for you as soon as you have returned. Once you have spoken with Lady Leliana and have gotten more information, please be sure to alert us as to our next research assignments if there are new items of importance we need to investigate.”

“That’s what I was planning to do,” he grumbled, still put-off by the joke she’d made at his expense. He headed down the stairs and hoped the day’s productivity would pick up as soon as Leliana gave him the site of the Inquisitor’s next mission.

 

Fortunately, the Inquisitor’s arrival was a bit less exciting than they way her note arrived, and she summoned him the morning after she’d gotten back in. He gathered his materials and made his down to the Lady Josephine’s study to meet with the Inquisitor and her advisors, glad to have the hefty weight of thorough and informative reports under his arm. No one could say that they’d been idle while the Inquisitor was away!

To his surprise, there was a larger audience than originally anticipated. The Inquisitor was flanked by Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana, but they’d also been joined by the Inquisitor’s assorted companions. Additional chairs had been brought in, but for the most part people stood, restless. Bastien straightened and patted down his robes before stepping further into the room. He saluted the Inquisitor, who smiled at his approach.

“Thank you so much for joining us!” she said, pointing him towards one of the empty seats. “I’m sorry to pull you away from your work, but we’ve a fair amount to cover and I figured it would be easiest for us all to get on the same page. Since most of what we’ll be going may or may not need research, I figured it would be easier for you to sit in and give us your insight."

“Of course,” he said, placing the stack of reports on the side table and pulling out his folio. Hopefully he’d be able to keep up with notation of what they discussed; it’d been some time since he’d done any shorthand, but he could flesh out the paper later. Lady Josephine nodded, apparently having the same thing in mind. This made him brighten a bit. Perhaps he’d be able to look over her own notes to compare the two and add further details as needed. Then, of course, he would need to copy the compilation, enough copies for everyone in attendance.

“Alright, now that we’re all here, let’s get started.” The Inquisitor held up a hand, quieting the room. She looked over to her spy mistress, a slight frown on her face. “Leliana, you said that there’s no word from your people in Orlais?”

“I’m afraid not, Inquisitor.” Leliana stepped away from the shadows, her mouth pursed in worry. “It is not unusual for these things to take time, Empress Celene is most likely overwhelmed with issues from the Civil War, and she might be trying to make a statement by ignoring our agents’ requests for an audience. However, the lack of response from my agents is troubling. I am beginning to worry that we may need to make a personal appearance. I will keep you informed as I learn more, one way or another.”

“Hmm,” replied the Inquisitor, frowning a bit. “Let’s make the personal appearance a last-ditch effort. I have no desire to go to the palace if we can avoid it. Anything we can do to stay out of their politics and the city proper would be best—ah, no offense, Vivienne.”

“None taken, my dear,” replied the enchantress, giving the Inquisitor an unaffected smile. She sipped her tea and crossed a leg with the fluid motion of one completely at ease. “We cannot all be expected to appreciate the subtleties of court politics, and we choose our battlefields as we must. Should you find that you must travel to Halamshiral, however, I will be happy to assist you in any way that I can.”

“I appreciate the offer,” replied the Inquisitor, mimicking Vivienne’s cool tone. Then her smile grew a bit, enough to show teeth. “If we do have to go to the city, I would be most interested in seeing whatever remains of the Elvhen city.”

“Your visit would be short-lived,” said Solas, ignoring the glare from the high enchantress. His attention was on the Inquisitor, a slight smile on his face. His posture was relaxed and unperturbed. Remli’s smile brightened even more.

“Even better!” she laughed, then, shuffled the papers in her lap to see what else they needed to talk about. “Alright, let’s see what else there is…”

Bastien was rather pleased with how well he’d been able to keep up with the conversation. His quill raced across the page, making notes of additional topics they might look into to further assist the Inquisitor’s exploration and duties. He hoped Josephine was taking an equally detailed list of notes, as he’d be unable to do much notation when it was time for him to report. It was good for the Inquisitor to have all of her companions in the room-- the conversation was lively and highly informative as they discussed what their next steps might be.

“…and I may be able to convince Keeper Deshanna to send a few scouts to assist us. It’s winter, and they get a bit antsy when they’re stuck closer to the aravels. And it would be nice to have more Dalish elves about— I know, Sera, I know. But I’m not as terrible as you thought, right? Maybe you can help them stop being so ‘elfy’, too. I’m sure there are plenty of books you can show them about how terrible Dalish life is.” Ignoring Sera’s lewd gesture, the Inquisitor turned to Bastien, giving him a smile. “And on that note, how goes your research? Has your team found anything interesting?”

Bastien jumped to his feet, rifling through his notes to find the best place to start.

“Very well, Inquisitor!” he said, waving a stack of papers. “I’m pleased to say that most of our requests for additional tomes and resources have had positive results. The donors who have not yet sent us items are willing to negotiate, at least that is how I interpret their replies, so I am hopeful that we will be able to supply you with any requisition requests you have—so long as we are given notice of what it is you need.”

“That’s a relief,” she said, leaning back in her chair. She quirked a smile at him, catching the implication, “and I’m sure that everyone appreciates the reminder. We’ll be sure to send written requests if we need specific volumes.” Her face sobered, and she straightened in her seat. “Have you found anything promising on the Corypheus front? Any records of him in the books you’ve read so far?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, the only sources we’ve been able to procure so far have been outside perspectives—mostly reactions to Tevinter legends and fairytales, nothing concrete. We’re still waiting on some of the works Messere Pavus requested, so hopefully they will have more insight into what this creature is—or at least what he claims to be.”

He turned the page, and brightened as he skimmed the notes. “I do have some more detailed results on other matters, however! I wrote to Lord Ghippin about the Inquisition’s relocation to Skyhold, and he said that he believed that he remembered some materials that mentioned a place similar to this, at least in passing. I’ve a list here of the titles he was able to find, and he’s promised to send the appropriate sections of these volumes along at a later time.”

Dorian coughed to cover a laugh, then tilted his head, frowning a bit. “You’ve been researching Skyhold?” he asked. “Why?”

“It’s rather a great mystery, isn’t it?” Bastien replied, gesturing around the room. “This massive fortress in the middle of nowhere, a place that’s been occupied and then abandoned multiple times over the centuries? Records show that it’s mostly Ferelden, but there are records of a researcher mage investigating what he thought were signs of Elvhen ruins. Imagine! This might be the location of an Ancient Elvhen stronghold, perhaps even a temple! Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“The roots of Tarasyl'an te'las are deep,” agreed Solas, giving the archivist an indulgent smile. “And, as the late Master Ganot noted, the Veil is old here.”

“Which brings up another entirely fascinating concept, does it not?” Bastien pushed, turning his attention to Solas. “Stating that the Veil has an age, that implies that it started at some point—and if it is old here, perhaps the ancients who once called this place home dealt with the Veil to some capacity.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Solas. “It is certainly an interesting topic, one we might discuss at length when there is time to turn our thoughts to such idle curiosities.”

“Ah!” coughed Bastien, blushing at the gentle reprimand. He skipped over the next few pages of his report, looking for something that could be considered more relevant than ‘idle curiosities.’ He stopped when he came to yet another inventory list, pulling it from the stack and briefly reviewing the titles.

“We’ve also finished cataloguing the items you brought from the Emerald Graves and Emprise du Lion—“

“Already?” interrupted the Inquisitor, surprise in her voice. Bastien beamed proudly.

“We take our work very seriously, your worship. The items were delivered within the hour of your return, and it was a simple matter of logging the books as we placed them on the shelves.” He preened a bit, remembering how well the books had fit in their designated places. “I’ve also asked Messere Blackwall for assistance in additional cases, should you find more materials during your travels.”

“You’ll get your shelves,” replied the warden, waving off the mention. “I’ve been preparing the wood and they should be assembled within the week, unless you need me for more pressing matters.” At this he gave the Inquisitor a questioning glance. She flushed a bit, but shook her head.

“Based on everything we’ve covered, it sounds like we’re all staying close to home base for a while,” she said, looking around the room. Her eyes settled on her advisors, and she tilted her head in question. “Unless there are some pressing matters that we need to attend to in the immediate future?”

Cullen shook his head. “The men are well into training, and the expeditions you’ve been sending them on have been rather fruitful. Nothing much to note; we’re well stocked, and more join under our banner by the day. The Templars have proved to be valuable in training the troops.”

“There are a few minor matters for your attention,” replied Josephine, lifting her quill from the page. “Nothing immediately pressing, but I would like to go over them with you at your earliest convenience.”

“I will inform you as soon as I have heard from my people,” said Leliana when the Inquisitor shifted her attention to the spy mistress. Leliana smiled, clasping her hands behind her back. “Until then, I suggest a few days of rest. I’m sure that you will want to see the improvements of the keep as well—we’ve made several upgrades with the influx of materials you’ve found.”

“I’ll be glad to see them,” agreed Remli, and she stood up, stretching. “But for now, I think we’d best call it a wrap. I’d like to see about grabbing some lunch, and I’m afraid I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to start looking through. Josie, could you see if we can convince the nobles to meet with me in the morning, maybe over breakfast? I’d like a day to get back into the swing of things, especially if we’re going to be here for a while.”

There was a general murmur of assent as the room stood up to return to their usual places. Bastien scrambled to pick up his notes, trying to gather his things together before the others left. He just managed to catch up to Solas as the other elf started out the door. Solas saw the archivist’s full load of paper and held the door open, nodding with a slight smile as Bastien passed through.

“Thank you, Messere,” Bastien said, adjusting his hold on the stack of reports in his arms. “I was hoping that I might speak with you further, if you have the time.”

“I will answer any questions you have to the best of my ability,” replied Solas, holding out a hand in an offer to take some of the papers as they walked back to the rotunda. “It seems that our Inquisitor will have a fair number of reports to get through.”

Bastien flushed, shaking his head. “I’d never presume to tell the Inquisitor that she had to get through these,” he said, patting the stack of papers. “It is enough for her to know that they are there—she may read them at her leisure, if she chooses. Should we find anything of import, we report it to the Inquisitor’s advisors regardless, so even if she does not read the full report, she will get the information she needs.”

“An admirable approach,” said Solas, holding the door to the rotunda open as well. “Now then, was there a particular question you had that I might answer?"

“Well, we do have a fair number of things to continue investigating, but…” Bastien trailed off, then shrugged with a bashful smile. “I’m afraid I’m also indulging in further research of Skyhold. I cannot shake the feeling that this place was important, some distant past that might have some relevant influence on the Inquisition’s future. I’ve spoken to some of the mages and they say that the Fade is almost palpable here—surely we should study it, in case it assists us with the Inquisitor’s efforts to keep this Corypheus from physically entering the Fade?”

Solas scratched his chin and frowned as Bastien spoke, to the point where the archivist felt that it might be more prudent to skulk back to his books. Still, the mage did not dismiss him, and he was clearly considering the suggestion. At last, Solas lowered his hands and gave him a slight nod.

“It is… an interesting thought,” he said, “I am not sure how much we could find in terms of Skyhold’s relation to the Fade. However, if we can acquire even half of these,” and at this he placed a hand on the list of requested materials that Helisma had left on the desk, “we may find our answers there.”

“I understand that your focus of magic involves the Fade,” started Bastien, trying to feel his way through his next request. “Should I come across additional materials and I have questions…”

Solas smiled, relaxing. “I will be happy to assist in any way that I can.”

“Thank you, Messere!” Bastien smiled brightly, making a mental note to write a list of questions to give to the mage when he had a moment to think further. “Please be sure to let me know if there is anything you require to further your own studies.”

“I will, thank you,” said Solas. He hesitated a moment, as though another thought occurred to him. Then he continued, “I may have some future projects that may require additional materials and discretion—some studies can be of a delicate nature, especially when there are memories to be investigated.”

“Just send word of whatever you need, messere,” replied Bastien, bowing slightly. “Or, if you wish, send for me and I will see to it personally.”

They parted ways, and Bastien headed up the stairs. Although the mention of lunch had been tempting, there was too much to do to stop and eat quite yet. He’d have to get the team to shift their focus a bit, and then there was the write up of his notes from the meeting and the compilation, not to mention he’d wanted to start on a list of questions for Solas involving the Fade and Skyhold, starting with how the mage knew of the fortress in the first place. All before he went on his evening walk with Helisma to further study the animals.

He smiled, despite his growing list of things he needed to do. There was so much to do, so many things to investigate, so much to learn! He couldn’t wait to see what other secrets their studies might uncover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Previous chapters edited to make up for canon discrepancy. Thank you for the help, lovely readers NamelessShe and Ashto! <3


	7. Archival Kink Shaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a special delivery, a social faux pas, and a strong pot of tea.

Bastien was ready to kill the Inquisitor.

He meant this in the kindest way possible, of course, as he had nothing but admiration and respect for the woman who’d clawed her way out of the Fade and worked her way up to the seat of power for a world organization. She was a voice of reason in these troubling times, an icon for the elves, and an inspiration to all who would work to make the world a better place.

However, given that she was now more or less house-bound to the keep (or at least bound to short trips where she was easily reachable by raven for a quick return) while they waited for news from Orlais, she also had a damned tendency of coming into the library at the most inconvenient times. She’d pop in and drop off stacks of codices, or she’d spend an hour pulling books from the shelves to gather a massive stack of reading materials to take up to her room. Then she’d read over their newest reports, make some notes in the margins, and request additional information and texts, complete with a summary of their contents for meetings happening a few days hence.

Or rather, the Inquisitor dropped them off and then disappeared downstairs to flirt with her beau, and then Leliana would appear out of nowhere and strongly suggest that the items might be helpful, to the point that maybe Bastien and his team should drop everything else and get on translating and analyzing the materials _yesterday_.

He’d then spend the afternoon at his desk having to listen to the Inquisitor’s attempts to seduce Solas while he attempted to work, and worrying over whether or not the spy mistress would pop out of the stonework to ask why the reports weren’t done.

On top of that, with the fall of yet another keep out in the world, the Inquisitor freed up another trade route, which meant an acceleration in the delivery of supplies. Good for those who ordered requisitions, bad for those who had to review and catalogue such orders before delivering them to their intended readers. Bastien supposed he should be glad that he’d landed in a fortress filled with people who devoured reading materials the way a beggar went through bread, but oh, there were times that he missed the leisurely days between deliveries, that quiet time that allowed him to go through all of the materials they amassed.

Fortunately, seeing as the Inquisitor had also managed to collect samples from each plant and animal she’d run across in her journeys, there were fewer and fewer new specimens for Helisma and her team to work on. Bastien gratefully absorbed the researchers into his fold and had them work on summarizing texts before re-shelving them. This freed up more time for him to focus on research materials for the Inquisitor and her companions, although even this simpler task still required some assistance in sorting and delivering the items.

So when a new shipment of books arrived that had been earmarked for the VIP deliveries, Bastien took the time to them personally. He’d saved them for the last task of the night, deciding that they could deliver the items first thing the next morning. There’d been over five crates of books, however, so it was long past the usual working hours when they finally got to the final box of packaged books.

Despite the late hour, Dorian sat at a nearby table, helping with translations of some of the more advanced Tevinter magical theory books. Never one to hide his curiosity, he openly snooped as Bastien removed the paper wrappings and handed each new title to Helisma to record in the ledger. Every so often he would nab a book from the pile and flip through it in idle curiosity before Helisma reclaimed the title.

“You know, these books don’t look nearly as useful as they were advertised,” Dorian said, picking up one of the texts and flipping through a few pages, turning it this way and that. Helisma calmly took the book from the mage, no indication that he’d interrupted the flow of their cataloguing process. She simply added a notation in the book’s cover, made a similar note in the ledger, and placed the book on a pile with its siblings—far from the reach of the nosy mage.

“Well, they’re what I was able to find,” sighed Bastien, who’d started to fear the same thing. “You may find this hard to believe, but reliable texts about the ancient Elvhen are hard to find, even with Messere Tethras’, ah, ‘friends.’ Trying to find actual book written in ancient Elvhen is like asking for strands of Andraste’s hair, or for splinters from the Maker’s throne.” He sighed in disgust, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Ask any merchant, and you’ll readily find copies or fragments of supposed materials, and who knows? Perhaps some of the some explorers may have been fortunate enough to find some genuine artifacts. The problem is sifting through all the rubbish and fakes—and no one knows enough Elvhen to really tell if they’re real or not.” He gestured over the books, blowing out another long sigh.

“I can't believe I’m saying this, but Solas might be able to help you with that,” said Dorian, nodding below to the elf’s workspace. Bastien gave him a weary smile.

“Oh believe me, I know. I’ve spoken some hours with Messere Solas about his experiences in the Fade, a fascinating subject. He made up a bit of a primer for me to use in trying to translate the pages, but it’s slow work, as I’ve not had the time to read over everything.” He rubbed his chin, flipping through one of the texts.

“The issue is that true Elvhen is supposed to have actual power with the words themselves—that is, they were written with magic—maybe even a magical ink of some sort, so there’s a bit of a synesthesia effect when you try to read them. You read the words but you year voices, taste memories, smell smells, hear sounds, that sort of thing. I understand that you experience this yourself when you collected runes with the Inquisitor.”

Dorian considered this, then nodded, conceding the point. Bastien sifted through the papers on his desk to bring up rubbings of those rune markers that the Inquisitor had collected through her travels.

“So, you get some sort of double-effect when witnessing them firsthand. But if you look at them transcribed….” The librarian trailed off, letting the paper fall to the desk.

“No power, since they’re not packing the magical ink or whatever?” asked Dorian, squinting at the sheet of paper. Bastien nodded, picking up another book and unwrapping it, thumbing through the pages before handing it to Helisma.

“Or whatever,” he agreed. “Solas said he might be able to experiment with his paints and reproduce some of the ink, but that’s rather low on our priorities right now, as it would still mean that we would need to copy the text in full with this magical ink to see if they had any magical resonance once the words are read. He’s very well versed in ancient Elvhen, he may be able to narrow down our translations to more promising works.”

“As it stands, we have to rely on the resourcefulness of Leliana’s people,” explained Helisma. “We have provided them with the primer and a rudimentary understanding of Elvhen in the hopes that they can read the books before settling on a purchase. In this way, we have been able to sift out some of the falsified documents.”

“Which is all well and good when we’re doing research on Orlais, or even the Wardens, to some extent, but Elvhen?” Bastien sighed, removing the wrappings from another book and then handed it to Helisma. Once again, she dutifully wrote down the title and notated the number in the cover before placing it aside.

Bastien moved to the next book, cutting away the strings. “What we know of this Elder One is that he harkens from Tevinter, and yet he seeks Elvhen artifacts. If we take into consideration the timeline—or rather, our best guess as to when he claims to be from, we can narrow our search to— **Oh, Maker’s Breath**!” he yelped, staring at the cover in abject horror for a few missed heartbeats before quickly covering it back up with paper.

Interest piqued, Dorian vaulted from his seat and hurried over, prying away Bastien’s hands to peel back the paper once again. He whistled, scooped up the book, and chuckled as he flipped through the pages in appreciation.

“That’s quite an impressive cock,” he said at last, pausing on a few of the illustrations. “Although I must say, the title is rather misleading. There’s not a lot of subtly in that, but it would take a tremendous level of flexibility. Whatever possessed you to order this?” He gave the archivist a cheeky grin and a wink, assessing the blustering man with a knowing look. “Have a special girl in mind?”

Bastien flushed, trying to grab the book from Dorian, who held it aloft as he paged through it.

“This was a requisition request from the Inquisitor!” hissed Bastien, checking the room to ensure that they were still alone. The only real sounds coming from the rotunda were from the ravens above, everyone else having retired hours ago. Despite that, he always worried that Leliana might have someone watching, just to make sure that he wasn’t slacking in his duties. If he didn’t finish the cataloguing… he shuddered to think of the consequences. Dorian was unfazed by Bastien’s attempt to speak quietly, giving a hearty laugh.

“Haha, truly? Goodness, I wonder if Solas knows what he’s in for,” Dorian mused, turning the book to truly appreciate one of the more explicit illustrations. “Still, I’m sure that our girl is up for the challenge. I’ve seen her move on the battlefield, and I’m sure that if she works at it she can get her legs up in the air like that. Not so sure about Solas though, he might throw out his back trying this pose, what do you think?” He showed Bastien the illustration in question, eliciting a pained whine from the librarian.

“I can’t give the Inquisitor this! What if she’s seen with it? What if I’m seen with it? What was I thinking?” Bastien fretted, trying not to think of the Inquisitor and Solas engaged in any carnal activities. He flushed a deeper crimson at the images of the dashing _Messere Amoureux_ in assorted positions involving multiple men, women, and oh, by all that was holy, was that a bronto?

He hopped up and grabbed the book from Dorian, slapping it shut on the desk. Then, he took in a deep, calming breath. “I cannot in good conscience allow this to be seen by anyone, least of all the Inquisitor,” he said, resigned to his duty. “I like to think that I am an open-minded man, but this, _this….”_ He trailed off, trying to think of the best way to describe the **thing** beneath his hands.

“Literature?” finished Dorian.

“This _abomination of the written word_ is not fit to be used as kindling in a kitchen fire, let alone—“

“Kindle the fires of our dear Inquisitor’s loins?” Dorian laughed, clapping his hand on the elf’s shoulder. “I do hate to tell you this my good fellow, but both she and Solas are adults of consenting age—Solas especially, he’s as old as dirt. And, no matter what your best intentions may be, what she reads is no one’s business.”

“But it’s my business to provide her with wholesome and enlightening materials!” wailed Bastien, still trying to cover the thing on the desk. Surely there had to be some place where he could hide it, but he’d be unable to scrub the images from his mind. Dorian laughed, unrepentant.

“Face it, old boy, if you hadn’t bought it for her and she truly wanted it, she’d have asked Varric to get her a copy. For goodness sakes, you sound like an angry hen crying over chicks leaving the nest. The Inquisitor cannot be on the job all day and night. A bit of light reading is good for everyone,” Dorian chuckled, flipping through the pages again. “And this is exceptionally light reading, given how much of it is actually pictures. Maybe if she shows this to Solas he’ll actually stop making halla eyes at her and get on with taking her to bed. I’ve several gold coins riding on this, so it’s a matter of personal pride.”

Bastien covered his face in his hands and groaned as Dorian cackled, making tsking noises and flipping through the book again to examine some of the illustrations more closely. The mage gave a surprised shout as Helisma deftly took the book from him. She carefully wrapped it within the papers once again, giving them both a bland look that on anyone else might be considered irritated.

“I will personally deliver the book to her worship,” she said primly, tying the string back around the parcel, “as it seems that this is a task that cannot be trusted to the care of either of you.”

“I was looking at that!” protested Dorian.

“The Iron Bull has a copy of his own,” she replied, getting to her feet. She pushed in her chair and gave him a steady gaze. “The next time you are in his quarters, I am sure he would be willing to allow you to examine it in greater detail.” Dorian flushed, stammering something about personal space and private business, but Helisma remained unmoved. As they argued, Bastien sighed, rubbing his hand across his face.

“No, no, I cannot allow it,” he argued, resigning himself to fulfilling his duty. “This was a personal request from the Inquisitor, and I should be the one to deliver it.” Helisma held up a hand to stop him.

“The very thought of looking at the book, let alone holding it causes you distress,” she replied. “Because this is a private request of the Inquisitor, it must be handled with the utmost care. I do no believe that you would be able to deliver the book without making a scene, which in turn would cause her worship no little embarrassment if you were to be questioned about your movements.”

“I would just tell them that it was official Inquisition business,” he said, although it was a half-hearted complaint. Unfortunately, she was right, he probably would find a way to blunder the delivery, and while any social stigma he might face would be uncomfortable, he would never forgive himself if he did anything to tarnish the Inquisitor’s good name and reputation. Not with all of those Orlesian nobles loitering about, and certainly not in front of her companions. There was also the fact that Leliana might skin him alive if she got wind of him causing the Inquisitor any distress.

“It is simply a book of couples engaging in creative sexual activities,” replied Helisma, no waver in her voice. “When she was taken to the high courts for possible imprisonment, the author made a point to note that everything was consensual and hypothetical, and not intended to be taken literally. This was how she was able to avoid execution.” Her phrasing sent Dorian into a snort of laughter again.

She ignored him, however, watching Bastien instead. “I will deliver the book to the Inquisitor personally, and she will be able to open it at her leisure, with or without others present. Would this be satisfactory?”

“I…” he trailed off, all pretense of noble sacrifice dying under that unwavering gaze. She was nearly as frightening as Leliana when she stared at him like that. “Yes. I believe you are correct, that would be the best course of action. Thank you, Helisma.”

She stared at him for a moment longer, but after a few heartbeats she nodded, then headed off down the stairs. The two men watched her go, and Bastien blew out a long breath, sagging into his chair.

“That is a bit of relief,” he admitted, scrubbing his face with the palms of his hands. “But was it me, or did she give me a funny look? What was that about?”

Dorian scratched his chin, staring at the librarian for a long moment before finally answering. “Do you know, you’ve been here a few months now—and granted, I’ve been away for some of that time—but I believe that is the first time you called Helisma by her name.” Dorian shrugged, then clapped him on the shoulder.

“You’ll have to excuse me, my good fellow, but I’m afraid that I simply must be there to see Helisma deliver this. I daresay it will be quite an unforgettable moment.”

Bastien looked at him sharply. “You intend to convince her to open it up in front of others, don’t you?”

“Naturally,” Dorian grinned, then sauntered off to follow the Tranquil woman.

Bastien slouched in the chair, frowning as he mulled over Dorian’s words. Surely the mage had to be mistaken—they’d been working together for nearly three months now, surely he’d called the woman by her name before…? But no, he couldn’t recall such a thing, although it was a trivial enough thing to do that he might not remember. However, given the woman’s reaction, perhaps it meant more to her than she let on.

Even if she couldn’t feel hurt or upset by the dismissal of others, she was an intelligent woman, she must have recognized it for what it was. With that thought came the realization as to why the Inquisitor and her companions always made a point to stop and speak to her after a mission, to chat with her about what they’d seen, and to call her by name. It must have been terribly lonely—or what a Tranquil might interpret as lonely—when they were away.

Well! He would just have to make an effort to speak to her more often, and include her in more of their research. She’d certainly proved that she could rescue him from conversational mishaps and social suicide—the least he could do was acknowledge her in a more personal manner. Maybe he could find a small research project for her to concentrate on as well—goodness knew they had enough leads to follow.

Invigorated by this new purpose, he stood and went to fetch his notes to see if there was something suitable to her particular talents and interests.

 

The next morning, he awoke early, planning to get an early start to the day’s tasks. Bastien went to the kitchen to fetch his own tea, hoping that he could barricade himself in his little nook to finish the last of the book cataloguing before he had to meet with Leliana. Not that he’d planned on meeting the woman for anything, but she had a terrible tendency of popping up at the most inconvenient times, and as much as he wanted to make some diplomatic peace offerings to Helisma, he wanted to avoid the wrath of the spy mistress even more.

He was so intent on his destination that he failed to take into account the danger in taking his normal route back to his nook by way of the lower rotunda, and he’d already walked into the room, tray in hand, when he realized his mistake. Despite the early hour, Solas slouched at his desk, scowling at some of the books Bastien had left there the night before.

Bastien froze, a quiet horror creeping over him. Dorian had mentioned something about Solas being with the Inquisitor the night before. Had Solas been there when Helisma delivered the package? Had Dorian convinced the Inquisitor to open it in front of others? What if Solas had seen the book? What would the mage think of the Inquisitor, or of him for giving her such an item?

Had he been a braver man, he might have been able to bluff confidence and walk briskly past the brooding elf—no one ever bothered you if you looked like you had important places to be and knew what you were doing. If he’d been a better mage, he might have been able to Fade step to the stairs, or done something to cloak as much of his presence as possible. As it was, he deliberated whether it was appropriate situation in which to pretend that he hadn’t seen the mage and risk the appearance of snubbing Solas, or if it was better to play the fool and greet the man with a cheerful grin in the hopes that he wouldn’t get his head bitten off.

“Have you been at work all night?” asked Solas, removing the former option. Bastien decided to go with the second tactic and forced a smile, though the hands holding his tray trembled a little.

“Ah, good morning, Messere!” he greeted Solas, trying to look confident as he walked further into the room. “I hope I did not disturb you. I’m just trying to get an early start, that’s all. Lot’s to do today.”

“Hmm,” Solas muttered, rubbing his temples. When Solas lowered his hands, Bastien noticed the dark circles under the mage’s eyes. He looked as though he hadn’t gotten much sleep, or at least, not much rest. Perhaps that was why he was grumpy—well, grumpier than usual, anyway. Bastien cleared his throat and nodded to the books on the table.

“I believe I have a few more books for you upstairs. I apologize, I was unable to complete the cataloguing last night, but should have the work done by lunch today,” he explained, although this elicited little more than a distracted grunt from the mage. Bastien frowned, stepping closer.

Normally he wouldn’t dare impose on someone of higher rank, certainly no one of the Inquisitor’s companions, but Messere Solas had always been kind to him, and the man seemed withdrawn, even for his normally reserved manner. Bastien cleared his throat again. “Messere?” he asked tentatively.

“Apologies,” Solas said, giving the archivist a wan smile. “I appreciate you bringing these texts to me so quickly. I will let you know if I require additional materials or research.” He sounded distracted, his gaze turning inward as he spoke, as though there was some terrible burden on his thoughts.

“Are you alright, Messere?” asked Bastien. A bit blunt, perhaps, but he was tired, and Solas didn’t seem to be paying much attention; he probably wouldn’t notice any social mishaps. The mage was fingering the edges of one of the old books, staring at the pages without actually reading it.

“It was a long night,” Solas explained, answering nothing. He gave Bastien another smile, briefly locking eyes before turning back to his musings. Still, Bastien knew that look, had worn it often enough himself to recognize it. This was the look of a man awake long into the night, chasing down theories and tracing evidence through the manuscripts. This was not a man burdened with thoughts of his lover’s questionable reading taste.

Solas started when Bastien set the tea tray down, focusing on the man for the first time. Bastien gave him a much more cheerful smile, now that he knew he would not get executed on the spot for smuggling illegal pornographic materials to the Inquisitor. He poured out a cup of tea and set it in front of Solas, who winced a little at the strong smell.

“I always find a pot of this will clear away any lingering mental cobwebs,” explained Bastien, pouring himself a cup and adding a dollop of cream to his cup. He added four sugar cubes and stirred as he continued. “My own special blend; I asked the kitchen staff to keep some stock on hand for just such occasions—we’ve had several long nights these past few weeks.”

Solas smiled, sniffed the cup, and took a sip. He quickly winced and coughed at the bitter taste, accepting the offered sugar cubes and cream to dampen the effect.

“What..?” he coughed, trying to clear his throat of the cloying brew. Bastien took a sip from his own cup and cleared his throat again, feeling the liquid burn its way down to his belly.

“I think it’s the embrium extract,” he explained, his voice a little wheezy. “It gets easier to handle as you keep drinking it, but you won’t be falling asleep for hours after your first cup.” He paused, then gave the tea kettle an affectionate pat.

“I’ll leave this with you, it seems that you could use a bit of a pick-me-up.” Bastien topped off his own cup and started off towards the stairs, then stopped and turned. “Ah, Messere, a word to the wise—it’s best not to drink more than one cup every four hours. Too much and… well… the nerves can get a bit twitchy.”

Solas gave him a more amused smile this time. “Hmm. You drink this daily, do you not?”

“I do! It’s an excellent stimulant for the mind and the body. Was there a reason you wanted to know?” Bastien asked, stopping at the base of the stairs. Solas shook his head and waved him off, taking another sip and wrinkling his nose.

“No matter. Thank you for the tea,” Solas replied. Bastien nodded, wished him luck on his research, and headed up to his little alcove, his mind already on the titles awaiting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you guys ask, yes, there is a companion piece in the works for this chapter detailing the delivery of THE BOOK. :) (Dorian greatly approves)
> 
> If you couldn't tell, this chapter ends with the start of "All New, Faded for Her" (just so you can get an idea of where we are in the grand scheme of things)


End file.
